


Hell for Leather

by Scarlett_Lamour



Series: Leather and Lace [1]
Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Discussion of Abortion, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, No beta/We die like men, Period Typical Violence, Pining, Pregnancy, Pregnancy sex, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-17
Updated: 2020-09-11
Packaged: 2021-03-05 05:55:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 14
Words: 26,683
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25329646
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scarlett_Lamour/pseuds/Scarlett_Lamour
Summary: She finds herself at the mercy of outlaws, but it seems more like they’re at the mercy of her. What secret is she hiding?
Relationships: Arthur Morgan/Original Female Character
Series: Leather and Lace [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1935988
Comments: 62
Kudos: 124





	1. Chapter 1

The wagon pulled to a sudden stop. Shit. 

She knew better than to poke her head out the window. There wasn’t ever a good reason to stop _here_. Sure enough, gunshots rang out and the man sitting across from her pulled out his gun and pushed out of the coach’s door. _Idiot._ She scoffed and turned her head away from the door as it closed. Men called out between each other, voices she didn’t know. Not that she knew the voices of the drivers so well either. 

It was no surprise when the door to the coach swung open and she met the startled eyes of an outlaw. Rough and rugged with a bandana pulled up over his nose, blond hair sweaty underneath his hat. His gun was raised for the briefest of moments until his blue eyes raked over her body and then back to her face. 

“Sorry, Ma’am.” He grumbled in a thick drawl.”Could you step out of the coach?” It was a polite question and he even holstered his gun and held a hand out to help her. Like an actual gentleman. She scoffed and gathered up her clutch. 

“As if I have a choice.” Her nose wrinkled in distaste and a sense of satisfaction rose in her chest to see him cast his eyes down with a hint of shame. Take the offered hand and letting him leverage her to her feet, she stepped down the rungs of the coach and took the last long drop to the ground as gracefully as she could. A hand strayed to her stomach to help her balance. 

Two other men were outside the stage, going through packages pulled from the luggage rack in back. A tall one with dark hair paused what he was doing to step closer, eyeing her up and down. She met his eyes with a glare that could peel paint. 

“Our apologies, Ma’am. We have no intention of harming you.” He raised his hands as if she were a scared horse. She was far from scared.

“Just the men escorting me to my destination? And now? You will rob their corpses and leave me to die out here.” She waved her hand around at the expanse of dust surrounding them. “Whether you had intention or not, you surely will harm me. Or do you expect me to clamber up to the driver’s seat like some silly mountain goat and drive a coach and four to the nearest town by myself?” Turning her nose to the wind she looked to see if she could even see the town they had been heading to. Of course she couldn’t. “Nearest town is a half days ride from here, with a competent stage driver which I assure I am not.”

The dark haired man coughed behind his red bandana and glanced to the outlaw standing beside her. To her amusement, which she concealed, the outlaw beside her shrugged helplessly.

“Again, I apologize. We had no way of knowing a lady in your condition would be riding this coach.” His eyes trailed down to her stomach once again and she covered it with her hand as if to ward of his stare. 

“I can’t imagine you would have known who all would have been in that coach. In fact, I imagine you don’t really care, generally, as long as they have money.” Crossing her arms in impatience, it took all her restraint not to tap her foot. “So what will you do? Leave me here to die or at least offer me a ride into town so that two more souls may not be on your shoulders. Though I would think, that may be a drop in the bucket for you lot.” She looked past the dark haired man to the third person with them. He had his hat down so she couldn’t get a good look at him. They certainly looked ruthless enough but were acting properly cowed under her glare. 

“Arthur, why don’t you give Missus...” He waited for her to fill in the gap but she did not, choosing instead to continue her glare. “a ride to her destination.” The outlaw standing beside her began to argue but stilled his tongue when she turned her eyes on him. 

“Yes, Dutch.” He finally said, looking away from them to give a whistle. A brown horse with stripes on its legs began trotting up from where it had been grazing on the dry brush nearby. Her nose wrinkled at the idea of climbing up on such a beast but there wasn’t a lot of options available. 

“Ma’am, truly I -“

“If you apologize to me one more time I will be forced to find a rock and beat you with it.” She cut him off before he could annoy her any further. The third man, behind him, snickered hoarsely into the saddle of his horse and the dark haired man, Dutch, coughed into his fist and looked away nodding.

“I trust you understand this ride is in exchange for your silence.” It wasn’t a question and she stilled herself at the underlying threat. They were being properly magnanimous considering the situation and she did not usually consider herself an idiot. 

“Of course. I find myself safe and whole at my destination and I shall have no recollection of what’s transpired. I’m sure the trauma will wipe my memory clean of any identifying details you may have presented.” She still wished she had a rock though. Dutch gave a dip of his head and moved to mount his own horse, a white, flighty creature that looked more like it was made of bird bones than actual horse flesh. Him and the third man rode off, leaving her to turn and look at Arthur as he patted the neck of his horse. 

“Do you think you can ride or should I find us a wagon?” He pulled his bandana down as he spoke, revealing an oft broke nose and hard jaw that’d taken a punch or two. 

“I will do whatever is required and as I see no wagon around I suppose the back of a horse is the best I can hope for.” She snapped. Arthur shifted uncomfortably then held out a hand to her. It was a large hand, engulfing hers entirely as he stepped her towards the horse. For a moment, his hands ghosted around her swollen middle, unsure where to put them to help her up.

“Oh for land’s sake, you never seen a pregnant woman before? I’d imagine you and yours have had plenty a hand in setting a woman in this way.” That seemed to anger the man, his jaw went stiff and he grasped her hips, nearly throwing her onto the horse’s rump.

“Lady, you got a mouth like a sewing machine.” He snarled as he climbed into the saddle in front of her. She took a minute to settle herself on the creature and was forced to wrap arms around the man’s middle as it took off. It was going to be a long ride. “Where am I dropping you off? Armadillo?”

“Blackwater.” She corrected him and Arthur’s shoulders went stiff.

“That’s a weeks ride!” Hr groaned, rolling his head in frustration as he turned down a different road. 

“Yes and I was supposed to make it in a nice stage, with a lovely escort.” Arthur huffed a bit at her retort but fell silent. 

The wind was hot, picking up sand and throwing it against any bare skin. She was glad she had worn a bonnet for travel, she would have suffered worse without it. As it was, she was already suffering from riding sidesaddle across a horse's rump.

“What’s your name?” Arthur asked, voice low and a bit angry. “Gotta be escorting you for a damn week, I could at least know it.”

“Beatrice.” She finally said, considering that he had an actual point. 

“Well, Trixie,” Oh, she did _not_ like that nickname. “you meeting your husband in Blackwater?”

“That is none of your damn business, Outlaw. And you will call me Beatrice.”

“Whatever you say, princess.” Hs said with a sarcastic snort. It was going to be a longer week than she had anticipated.


	2. Chapter 2

“So, why exactly did you have your own armed escort following you?” Arthur asked over his shoulder, the horse walking along the dirt road. He had thankfully slowed down without Beatrice having to say anything. Maybe he wasn’t as stupid as he looked. 

“What business is it of yours?” Her words were sharp but Arthur shrugged them off. 

“If you got people after you, I should know. At least I can stock up on bullets.” He made sense, damn him.

“No, no one is after me. Besides, how do you know you didn’t just kill my husband back there?”

“Excuse me Ma’am,” he said the honorific like an insult. “But I ain’t never seen a wife shed so few tears over a recently departed husband.”

“Seen many freshly made widows, have you?” 

“I have, and I don’t think I’ve ever seen one leave the corpse behind without a second thought.” He didn’t sound very impressed with her. Beatrice wasn’t feeling very impressed with herself at the moment. 

“Well aren’t you astute.” That got a bark of a laugh to burst out of Arthur.

“Sometimes I manage okay.” 

“I am meeting my husband.” She scowled at his questions, at his challenging her at all. 

“In Blackwater.” Arthur finished for her. Ahead of them, if she leaned to the side, Beatrice could see the town of Tumbleweed perched on the bluffs ahead.

“I don’t ask your life story, don’t ask mine.” That killed the attempt of a conversation Arthur was trying to have and they rode in silence into Tumbleweed.

If Beatrice had ever seen a one horse town, Tumbleweed was it. She wasn’t even really a fan of a the desert in general but this seemed like the worst of it. In the heat, she couldn’t walk very far without feeling the strain of the added weight draining her energy. Eyes followed them as Arthur led his horse to the saloon and dismounted. When Beatrice moved to slide of the horse’s flank, he was quick to move and help her down. A hand out for her to grasp and the other at her elbow, she landed softly on her feet. 

“You hungry?” He asked as he tied the reins to a post. She wanted to snap at him but she _was_ hungry. 

“That would be nice.” It came out a small grumble and the way he smirked in response made her want to stomp on his foot.

“Well, let’s get the pregnant lady fed.” Arthur turned and began walking up the stairs. Everything he had to say seemed to get under her skin and her hands itched to cause someone else pain.

“I’m not just a pregnant lady.” The words were angrier than she had really intended but that seemed all she was capable of lately. Arthur paused at the batwing doors and held one open for her.

“No, I don’t suppose you are.” The mirth had left his voice and he waited for her to walk into the saloon before following behind. “You get a seat and I’ll get you some food.”

She bit her tongue and found an open table against the stairs on one side of the room. The room was dark and it took a bit for her eyes to adjust to the lighting. The saloon was mostly empty, a few men scattered at the tables too deep in their drinks to care about the new people that had entered. When her eyes finally landed on Arthur again, he was walking back to her with a plate of food in her hand. 

“They only got one room and its only got one bed.” Arthur grumbled, sliding the plate of food across the table to Beatrice.

“Are you lying?” She scoffed, picking up the fork to dig into the food. “No, I don’t suppose you would. Little place like this, probably doesn’t have a number of beds.” Her eyes drifted around the saloon as she ate. 

“It’ll be fine.” Arthur leaned back in his chair and pulled out a cigarette to light. “We’ll head out tomorrow. Probably have to camp the next night but we should make Armadillo in two days.”

“Can’t say I’m pleased at the idea of sleeping on the ground, but I suppose that’s as good as it gets.” Beatrice took a minute to eat, realizing she was more famished than she had thought. 

“Supposed to be nice weather, it’ll be a good night for it.” He dissented, pulling the cigarette out to blow smoke. It was more the laying on the ground with her hips aching as they did rather than the weather but she took another bite instead of complaining again. 

“And after Armadillo?” Cleaning the plate, she set the fork down and looked up at him. Arthur replaced the cigarette on his lips and shrugged.

“Might be a ranch we could beg a bed from along the way, but it’s going to be a bit of sleeping rough. I got a tent and a bedroll, we can pick up an extra bedroll before we leave.” He was trying to be pleasant, even with her snipping at him, that was certainly worth something.

“Suppose it’ll be nice scenery at least.” She tried. Felt weird to be pleasant. Arthur raised a brow but only nodded. 

“I was gonna clean up before this trip,” He slid a key across the table and Beatrice caught it before it fell off the edge. “Room 2, upstairs.” She looked the key over in her hand a moment before nodding. 

The room was small, and not the cleanest but neither was she. No gas lamps out here, just a couple kerosene. Lighting the lamp beside the door, Beatrice walked across the floor to glance out the window. It was getting late, and she was tired. She was always tired these days. There was a flutter of a kick in her ribs and she pressed back against her stomach. Why did the little thing always manage to kick her where it hurt? 

The crushing weight on her shoulders felt insurmountable. In the silence of the room, alone with the dying light of day leaking from the windows, it was hard to keep herself together. Sitting back on the edge of the bed, her face flushed and her eyes burned as tears welled up and slipped down her cheeks. It was humiliating to be where she was and she wiped at her eyes furiously as the door opened. Arthur walked in, scrubbed pink clean and wet hair curling against his neck. He glanced up at her but if he noticed her mood, he didn’t mention it. WIth her back to the door, it was possible he hadn’t seen.

“Uh,” he coughed as he started digging through his saddle bags. “I got a bedroll. I’ll take the floor45 .” It was more polite than she would have thought he’d be. Nodding without looking at him, she was quick to pull off her boots and stockings before slipping beneath the covers of the bed. 

“You want the light on?” He asked. 

“No, thank you.” Beatrice answered quickly, taking a breath to calm herself down. For a moment, there was silence and she could feel his eyes burning into her back. She never would have thought a dumb outlaw would be so perceptive. _Asshole_ The light was blown out and all that was left was her own thoughts still eating at her.


	3. Chapter 3

Beatrice woke two times in the night, only to hurriedly shuffle out of the room past the slumbering Arthur and to the outhouse behind the building. She cursed under her breath the whole way there and back. Before the cock had crowed or the sun risen she was up, shifting on her feet uncomfortable and trying to stretch her hips out in a way that helped. Digging out a crumpled letter from her small clutch, she read through it by the dim light of predawn. It was stained and she had balled it up at least once then smoothed it back out. Reading it held no balm for her emotions and she folded it up and slipped it back in as Arthur began to stir. 

“You always wake up this early?” He asked, sounding surprised. Beatrice shrugged and began pulling on her stockings and boots.

“It’s as much a chore to sleep these days, might as well get moving.” The weariness she felt didn’t come from lack of sleep. Arthur rubbed at his face a moment then plopped his hat on his head and rolled up the bedroll he’d slept on. 

“Alright then, go get yourself some food downstairs. I’ll pick up supplies. Meet me over at the general store when you’re ready.” Tucking the bedroll under his arm and slinging his saddle bags over a shoulder, he left without a backward glance. By then the sun was breaching the horizon and the cockerel was crowing from somewhere distant. She didn’t really feel like eating but who knows what food would be available while they traveled. At least at the hotel it would be served on a plate, with utensils. 

After a satisfactory oatmeal she only managed to eat half of, Beatrice walked across the dusty road. Early in the morning it was slow around the small town. The butcher hadn’t opened up yet and most everyone she could see was still half asleep. In front of the general store a couple of horses were hitched and it was reassuring to see Arthur’s dun mustangs waiting there. The saddlebags and bedroll were all accounted for and tied down.

Inside the general store, Arthur was eating at an apple as the store clerk wrapped up food in brown paper. He gave Beatrice a grin that she returned with a scowl and picked up the package.

“Thank you, Ma’am” he said with a tip of his hat and turned to leave. With a motion of his shoulder he directed Beatrice to follow him. 

“I figured,” he spoke around bites of apple. “If we’re going to be traveling so much it’ll be more comfortable if you ride your own horse.” He waved at the horse standing next to his with his apple as he started stuffing the package into his saddle bags. “Horses’ll go faster too if they ain’t carrying so much weight.” She couldn’t argue with his logic but it still seemed excessive. “If you don’t know how to ride I can just pony her along.”

“I can ride.” Beatrice said, moving to look the horse over. “Well enough to follow you at least.” 

“Good then.” He took a last bite before chucking the core off into the bushes nearby. It was a mare, a smallish strawberry roan that huffed in indifference at her. “Since we’re starting out early, we shouldn’t have to push ourselves to make Armadillo in two days. Nice, easy ride.”

“It was supposed to be a nice easy ride before.” Arthur didn’t respond to her as he waited for her to mount.

“Do you need help up?” He asked, instead of acknowledging her comment. Truthfully, she probably did but hell if she’d let him see. Grabbing tight to the saddle she struggled to get her foot in the stirrup before dragging herself up in a less than graceful manner. Surprisingly, it felt alright to sit astride the saddle. Her skirts hitched up a bit and showed her bloomers hem but it wasn’t any big sacrifice. They were clean enough. Arthur raised an eye brow but didn’t comment, mounting up in silence before turning his horse down the road. Beatrice followed after. 

She found a canteen of water in the saddlebags of her horse and metered out the water as best she could in the heat of the day. It soon got the best of her and she had to beg for a rest.

“What you need a rest for already?” He grumbled, looking over at her as she clumsily dismounted. 

“Private matter.” She snarled back, grabbing her skirts up in one hand to trot through the underbrush until she could squat behind a large bush. When she returned, walking in a far less hurried pace, Arthur didn’t say anything. He managed to not say anything for almost an entire hour, much to her surprise.

“I got a, a friend, who was pregnant not too long ago.” She could hear the smile in his voice. “I think you and her’d get along.” He sounded quite fond of his friend and Beatrice wondered exactly how a friend of an outlaw managed to fall pregnant. “I had forgotten what it was like for her, but I’m starting to remember.” Digging into his saddle bag, he pulled out an old bread roll and tossed it back to her. She struggled to catch it for a second before managed to clasp it against her chest. 

“Think we’d get along, huh?” The bread was dry, but not too old it seemed. 

“Like a house on fire.” He almost laughed. 

“What exactly does the friend of an outlaw do, Mr. Arthur?” The words were harsher than she intended but she didn’t correct herself. 

“Various things, I suppose.” He didn’t seem to mind her attitude at least. “What exactly do you do, Ma’am? You don’t strike me as a kept woman.”

“I was washing laundry for ten cents a day, before...” She trailed off and glanced down at her stomach. “They didn’t want a pregnant woman working for them.” 

“So now you join your husband in Blackwater?” He was probing and she knew where the questions were going. Bristling at the line of inquiry, Beatrice scowled hard at Arthur. 

“What do you care?” This time she did intend the harsh tone. 

“Just wondering what a washer woman was doing two states away from her husband. He travel a lot then?” 

“It’s none of your damn business what my husband does, you wretched man. Just as I’m sure it’s none of my business what various things your friend does.” 

“That’s right, it ain’t.” He turned defensive, protective of his friend she’d guess. It was nice to not be the defensive one, for a second at least. 

They stopped to pitch camp as the suns as setting, Arthur seemed skilled at setting up a camp quickly. Beatrice busied herself gathering wood and kindling for the fire as he worked. She returned with an arm full of scratchy dry brush that worked nicely to get a fire going. 

“It’s nice enough tonight, didn’t think we’d need a tent. ‘Sides, it only fits one anyways.” Arthur explained as she sat down on one of the bedrolls. It did almost nothing to protect from the hard ground but he had gone to the trouble to clear any rocks out from underneath it. 

She poked at the fire, watching it scatter sparks into the air while Arthur stepped off to shoot some poor creature for their dinner. He returned with two skinny rabbits and made quick work of their carcasses. They dripped grease into the fire as the sat spitted over it and Arthur dug a can beans out of the brown package he’d stuffed into his saddle bags. 

“Need a good variety, right?” He asked her and Beatrice nodded listlessly as she looked out into the darkness surrounding them. The flames of the fire blocked out the stars but once it burned down she was sure she’d be able to see every star that existed all at once. 

Later, as she shuffled on her bedroll. They were there, hung above her looking so close as if she could touch them. Thick along the Milky Way in a way that made her think of paint flicked on a dark canvas. It wasn’t a silent night, thank god. The animals all moving about kept up a decent hum of noise. She didn’t think she could have bore silence.


	4. Chapter 4

Her back and hips ached when she woke, but she wasn’t sure it was the hard ground or her condition that caused it. Probably both. Arthur whistled as he packed up their small camp and seemed almost chipper, as if to annoy her with his good humor.The roan she’d been riding was slightly more amicable to her this morning. It even managed butt her hand almost affectionately. 

She moved to drag herself into the saddle once more only for a hand to grasp her foot and hoist her up. Arthur handed her a strip of hard jerky to eat before finishing tying the bedrolls to the saddles and mounting up himself. 

“We’re making good time, even with all our stops.” He said as they turned the horses onto the dirt road through the scrub. Setting her shoulders, Beatrice didn’t bother to give him a glance. He was just trying to piss her off. “We should reach Armadillo by early evening. If we’re lucky the sun won’t even have set yet.” 

“May we find lodging there?” Her words were half said, she didn’t want to admit to any weakness in front of an outlaw. Arthur nodded his head, watching as a jackrabbit ran across the road. 

“I’m sure of it. There’s no hotel but there is a decent saloon, and a livery we can rest the horses at.” His prediction proved to be wrong. 

Armadillo was sitting squat on the range, underneath a thick black cloud. Even before they got close, Beatrice pulled her horse up and covered her nose. Arthur stopped, looking back at her in concern. 

“It’s burning flesh, can’t you smell it? There must be a sickness in town.” Shaking her head, she fished a handkerchief from her small clutch and covered her mouth and nose. “I won’t go into town. It’s not safe.” The cloth did little to keep the smell out of her nostrils. Arthur took a long minute to size up the town and consider what she said.

“Alright, fair enough. You ride around the outside of town, head on up towards the cliffs. I’ll grab supplies and catch up with you. I can ride faster than you by a mile.” He cut off her protest. Beatrice glanced up at the sky, he’d been right. They had made Armadillo before the sun set and it wouldn’t take him long to buy a few sundry provisions. It was a reasonable plan. Finally she nodded her head and Arthur’s shoulders relaxed. 

“There’s a small turn off, just at the top of the road along the cliffs. That’s where we can camp for the night. If you reach it before I meet up with you, just settle down and wait for me.” He didn’t wait for her to respond before turning his horse towards the town and trotting off. Beatrice scowled at his receding back but couldn’t honestly find anything to be mad about. Other than another night sleeping on the ground. But that wasn’t Arthur’s fault. 

Grumbling inwardly, she turned the mare to pick through the scrub and skirt the outside of town. As she crossed over train tracks, she could see large pits dug just outside the sheriff's office. Coffins piled around it. She’d have to ask Arthur what sickness had befallen the town. Must be something particularly nasty to require burning corpses and mass graves. Keeping her mouth and nose covered as she rode around the town, she only breathed easy once she was past the wretched place. Seemed as if this entire trip was cursed from the start. Her hand strayed to rest against her stomach and she realized she’d known that before she’d left home.

Away from Armadillo and slowly climbing up the cliff path, the sun was just starting to set over New Austin. It was a pretty sight, at least. Something nice to think of when she remembered it later. She snorted at herself, nearly laughing at such a foolish thought. When this was said and done she would try very hard to never think of it again. Behind her, hooves thudded in a rapid pace. Looking over her shoulder, she could see Arthur racing along the path. Dust flew up behind his horse in a great cloud as it traveled across the ground. He caught up with her easily, even though his horse was huffing and sweat lined the edges of his saddle.

“Find your way okay?” He asked. Beatrice nodded, keeping her attention on the scenery. “Sure is a pretty sight from here. Can almost forget about the hardness of it.” He sighed appreciatively and pointed at the turn off as it came into sight. 

It was nearly dark as he set up camp. The fire was nice, pushing back the slight chill creeping in at night. Arthur hummed as he cooked a cut of beef he had bought at the general store. 

“Cholera, it was.” He’d said without her having to ask. “Awful bad, it seemed. So no water from there. But the general store seemed okay. Shopkeep had a mouth on him, but was keeping healthy.” The beef sizzled on a little grill he’d produced from lord knows where. But she was thankful for it, cooked well enough to satisfy her. 

“Don’t suppose y’all made enough to share.” A wheezy voice said from the darkness outside the fire. Arthur had his hand on his pistol in a second but the click of a hammer was loud in Beatrice’s ear. 

“Aw, we don’t want to hurt you two. Just a little light robbing.” A second voice said, much closer to her. Her hand tightened around her clutch only for it to be ripped from her hands. She looked to see a young man, pock marked skin sallow in the fire light. He was missing a tooth as he grinned, opening up her clutch and tossing bits out in search of her bill fold. When she moved to take it back from him, he planted a hand on her shoulder and shoved hard. Knocked back off the stump she’d been sitting on, Beatrice landed hard in the dirt. A grunt came out of her as she hit and Arthur was on his feet. 

“Give the lady back her purse.” He’d snarled. His entire demeanor seemed to change. Now, with firelight flickering against him, his features seemed hard and dangerous. His eyes flashed in anger and his stance was stiff. The first voice stepped into the firelight, a tall man with a heavy beard covering much of his face. 

“We ain’t doing what you tell us, partner. You two are the ones at a disadvantage.” He seemed very sure of himself and Arthur’s attention was pulled to him. The smaller man, still holding her clutch, turned his gun to Arthur and Beatrice was left to scramble backwards out of the firelight. The horses shifted nervously on the picket string Arthur had hitched them too. And that was when she remembered seeing a rifle on Arthur’s saddle.

Not one of the men seemed to remember she was there until she cocked the rifle and held it up. Then all eyes turned to her.

“Get out, leave us be.” Her voice was rock solid, more than she felt really. Now was not the time for shrinking violets. The tall man raised his arms, nodding his head to the other man and the two started backing away.

“No harm done, little sister.” He laughed a bit. “We’ll be on our way.” The shorter man upturned her clutch so everything fell out before tossing it carelessly to the ground. Beatrice matched their steps, walking closer to the fire and Arthur as the two men back away. Arthur rested a heavy hand on her shoulder as they watched the men ride of. She didn’t lower the gun until the men were out of sight and she certainly wouldn’t stop scowling for a while longer. 

Uncocking the rifle carefully, she set it down before moving to get her her things. They were scattered in the dirt and Arthur bent to help her pick them up. The stupid men hadn’t even pocketed her billfold successfully. Not that it was particularly thick. But it was enough to get her to Blackwater. Arthur’s hand closed on the wrinkled letter and her voice died in her throat as he picked it up and glanced at it. It was as if ice water slipped through her veins and she couldn’t move. With slow, timid motions she tried to gather her things. Arthur stilled as he read it. 

_Dear Miss Beatrice,_

_We are so pleased you have decided to give us the infant. I assure we are most overjoyed to hear the news and eagerly await your arrival. My wife and I have long hoped for a kindness such as yours and rest assured we will love the child as our own. As you know, my wife is barren and unable to have children of our own._

_As kind as your offer to wet nurse the babe is, we have our own nurses ready and waiting for the birth. Your services will not be needed after, generous as they are. I may add that, once the child is born, we would greatly like to avoid further contact with you if at all possible. It would be distasteful, we feel, to have an unwed mother nearby while we try to settle into parenthood. It is our hope to raise the child in an upstanding, respectable household. This way, they can be afforded every opportunity at a good life._

_Anyway, I’m sure you will be eager to spend the, quite magnanimous, payment we are giving you in return. If you like, I will afford you a train ticket to Saint Denis as well. I understand it is an excellent place to start a new life. Of course, we will be assured of your silence concerning the matter of adoption. It would be most unseemly for word to get out. _

_Enclosed is a train ticket. I have hired an escort for you, a man I trust completely to insure your safe travels through New Austin. A Mr. Richards, who will meet you at the station and take care of your accommodations on the way. Please do as he says, as I am assured his knowledge is most considerable for the area. I am unfamiliar with New Austin myself though I hear it is quite dangerous. The safety of the baby is of utmost importance of course, please let Mr. Richards know if there is anything you require on your travels._

_Eagerly awaiting your arrival,  
Mr. Edwards, esq. _

Her eyes were stinging again. She’d read it enough to know it by memory now. He took longer to read it than she would have assumed. Perhaps he couldn’t read. That thought vanished when he reached out and stilled her trembling hand with his. 

“Are you in trouble?” He asked, sincere. Beatrice looked up, sitting down hard as she rubbed at her nose. 

“He doesn’t even mention that he’s the father of the poor babe.” A laugh with no mirth in it bubbled out. “Suppose his wife read the letter too before he sent it.” She couldn’t meet Arthur’s eyes. “He didn’t tell me he was married. I, I didn’t know.” Her eyes began to leak tears and she couldn’t stop it. “He told me he loved me.” Tears rolled down her cheeks in fat drops and dripped off her chin. Training her eyes on the fire, she tried her best to stem the tide but it was no use. Arthur sat beside her and reached an arm across her shoulder. 

Without a thought to propriety, she turned her face into his shoulder and cried.


	5. Chapter 5

“You ain’t gotta do it.” Arthur said. They had sat in silence for a long while. The fire had burned down a bit and he’d only left her side to toss more wood on and stoke the flames back up. Beatrice wiped at her eyes, sore from crying and looked up. 

“What choice do I have?” How could he ever understand the position she was in?

“You ain’t gotta give your baby to a feckless ass like him.” Anger bubbled under his words and he looked away, out into the darkness. 

“You’re a man, you wouldn’t understand.” She curled around herself as best she could. Her stomach got in the way a lot these days.

“Then explain it to me.” He was pushing, angry for her and she had to admit she liked it a little. Like someone was on her side for a change. 

“No one will hire me, I lost my very good job because I started to show. I’m not married, no one wants to touch me. No one wants to hire an unmarried pregnant woman. Like I’m a leper. Where will I go? A maternity house? They keep you there, as a servant until you pay off their debt. Did you know that? They charge more money than I have ever seen and if you can’t pay you’re their indentured servant. Meanwhile they sell your baby out from under you. Edwards is willing to pay me five thousand dollars cash to give him the baby and shut up. I could live on that. Move somewhere no one knows me, start over. I ain’t got family, and even if I did you think they’d want anything to do with me?” The words rushed out, bile she’d been holding in and it felt like a great release to finally say everything. “I’ve got nothing.” She hung her head, hiding her face with her hands. Arthur didn’t say anything. What was there to even say?

“It ain’t right.” His words finally came out, tight and angry. 

“Few things are.” Beatrice said, feeling herself drain empty. Like a canteen tipped upside down. 

“Do you want to give him the baby?” It was a question she had been avoiding asking herself. 

“Doesn’t matter what I want! If I kept the baby, I couldn’t feed it. I couldn’t clothe it. I couldn’t keep a roof over it’s head. At least Edwards and his wife could do that.” Tears were slipping down her face but it wasn’t the torrent it had been. She wiped them away and tried to look back up at Arthur. “At least,” Her breath shook as she took it in. “At least if I give him the baby and he gives me the money, I could start over and maybe marry. Then I could have another baby I could keep.” 

“Hell of a silver lining.” Arthur said, spitting to the side. 

“What did your friend do? Who got pregnant?” She asked.

“She’s in our gang. We took care of her, she’s family.” A sick sort of laugh bubbled up out of Beatrice and she couldn’t help herself. “Had a cute little boy.”

“A bunch of outlaws certainly live better than I do.” She hated it. She hated that she was jealous of a woman she didn’t know, that she wanted that life. Arthur looked at her like he wanted to say something. Maybe he was going to offer she join his gang. She was already scoffing at the idea. What possible skill did she have to offer? Nothing. Unless they were desperate for a washer woman.

“I’m staying with you.” He finally said. “Until you get back on your feet. You just, you shouldn’t be alone for this.” The tears were coming back and Arthur moved to sit next to her again.

“You can’t beat up Edwards.” She finally managed to say though her tears. 

“Why not?” He asked and a real laugh popped out of her. “He seems like the sort that needs a bloody nose.”

“I can’t disagree with you, but if he doesn’t give me the money what will I do?” Her tears were drying a bit and she managed to calm herself down. “Doubt he’ll want to pay me if you break his nose.” Arthur groaned next to her in frustration. 

“You’re probably right.”

“Arthur, I’ve had a long time to think about this. It’s the only option that makes any sense.” It was a speech she had said to herself many times over the past few months. She’d gone back and forth with herself, pacing inside the small bedroom she rented. When she’d first gotten the letter from Edwards, she’d been furious. How dare he treat her like some careless soiled dove. He’d lied to her, and he was lying to his wife now and would face no consequence. She’d cursed her gender, and she’d cursed his wealth and she’d cursed the child growing in her for putting her in such a position. 

Arthur offered no more dissent, only giving a heavy sigh and staring into the fire. Beatrice eventually succumbed to sleep, curling up on her bedroll and wishing things were different. The next morning things didn’t feel much better but the bite in her had gone out. 

“There’s a ranch we’ll reach before night, they should have a spare bed you can sleep in.” Arthur tried to start a conversation with her as they began riding out. 

“What did you mean, you’d stay with me?” She asked, not really interested in a meaningless talk.

“You want to go to Saint Denis to start over? It’s a big city, you’ll have a lot of cash on you. I can’t let you go wandering around on your own. Not in good conscience.” He glanced over his shoulder at her. 

“You ain’t responsible for me.” A little of her bite came back. 

“Didn’t say I was. But I done a lot of bad in my life, gotta try and balance that out occasionally.” He gave a little laugh and Beatrice had a hard time imaging him doing very much bad. Shaking her head to rid herself of those kinds of thoughts she squeezed her legs to keep her horse in step with his. 

They cross train tracks into the large ranch in late afternoon. She could hear a train horn in the distance and wondered if it were coming or going. Ranch hands stopped what they were doing to turn and look at them as they rode through the land. At a big house Arthur stopped them and slipped from his horse.

“You stay up there for a minute. I’m going to go ask to rent a room. Places like this will usually have a spare house for travelers. Figure you could use a bed to sleep in. “ He patted her leg before walking through the white picket fence and up the stairs of the house. Beatrice could feel a flush in her chest from his touch and instantly cursed herself. 

Where did she get off having feelings for an outlaw? Having feelings at all, in fact. Feelings of a certain nature had gotten her into the worst position she’d ever been in and now her faithless heart was doing it again. He was only helping her because he felt bad for her. Pure pity. No good would come from that. He certainly didn’t reciprocate the feeling, who in their right mind would? She shoved the errant thought down and made sure it didn’t show on her face as he came walking down the steps again. Lighting a cigarette as he went, he shook the match out after setting it on his lips. 

“They got a cabin to rent,” He said, taking up his horses reins as well as hers to walk them around the house. To the side of the house were several worker’s quarters bunched together around a fire pit. A few hands were sitting at the fire, talking and enjoy themselves. “ ‘fraid I may have lied a bit and said we were married.” Beatrice was glad his back was to her and she didn’t have to worry about him seeing the face she made. “If only so they wouldn’t ask questions about us sharing a cabin. Don’t think they’d let us rent it otherwise.” 

“If it was necessary I don’t see a problem. We’ll be leaving tomorrow anyways, right?” Her voice was cool and even, as reasonable as she could manage and Arthur certainly didn’t notice her struggling to catch her breath. He only nodded as he stopped in front of one cabin and hitched the horses. 

“Right, not like we’ll be joining them for tea. Though they don’t strike me as a tea having kind of folk.” He laughed a bit at his own joke she didn’t quite get and moved to pull the saddle bags from the horses as Beatrice dismounted. 

Later that night, as Beatrice lay in bed unable to sleep and Arthur snored from his bedroll on the floor, she snorted in an attempt to keep from laughing. Her own thoughts stubbornly refusing to leave.

At least he couldn’t get her pregnant.


	6. Chapter 6

She was up before the sun, like usual and spent a little time sitting on the small porch outside the cabin. It was quiet enough, the sounds of horses from a nearby paddock pastoral enough to please her. The breeze blowing through was cool and invigorating enough to help with the ache of exhaustion that seemed to constantly plague her. This was a place she could dream about, one day when she was somewhere else. If she closed her eyes she could imagine the grand farm house nearby was hers and her husbands and their children were sleeping still. 

The image of her husband was nebulous, but she could manage to see strong, calloused hands and a golden beard dusting his jaw. Her cheeks burned when she realized what she was doing and she opened her eyes to stall those thoughts.

“You don’t sleep much.” Arthur’s voice came from behind her. She glanced over her shoulder to watch him light a cigarette and toss the match. “You were up when I fell asleep, I know that.” His tone was lightly chiding. 

“It’s not by choice.” She grumbled. He stepped across the porch and offered her his hand, using the muscles in his shoulder to haul her to her feet. It took a decent amount of effort to help her up. For a moment their hands lingered, intertwined. Arthur was the one to break the contact, running fingers through his messy hair before dropping his hat on his head. 

“Well, we can use the extra time to get going. How are you feeling? Don’t want you pushing yourself.” Beatrice shook off his concern, stepping into the dirt. 

“You think I wouldn’t let you know exactly when I’ve had enough?” She scowled up at him, a half hearted gesture of defiance. Arthur laughed and shook his head.

“Suppose you _would_ let me have it.” He motioned towards the horses hitched nearby. Beatrice went to mount and Arthur was quick to offer a hand for her foot. She loathed that she needed it, but the feeling was less than it had been. Once she was up, he handed her the reins. 

“I was wondering, is it more comfortable to ride like that or side saddle?” He asked, curiosity in his voice. Beatrice was a little taken aback and had to think about it. 

“Neither are particularly comfortable, which is just about standard for myself these days. But riding like a man is better, at least for now. Who knows, perhaps in a day or two I won’t be able to stand either and you’ll have to drag me behind you on a litter like an invalid.” She sighed, and patted the roan’s neck. 

“Well, let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.” He was up in the saddle in a third of the time it took Beatrice and she envied his easy way. There was some romantically novel appeal to the life he seemed to live, riding through the country and enjoying the beauty of things. Never being tied down. Her hand strayed to her stomach as a few kicks drew her attention. It never really helped her mood when the infant inside her decided to voice it’s own opinion of things. 

They rode in silence for the morning. It was peaceful silence and Beatrice found it easier to appreciate the scenery around her. Somehow, Arthur knowing about her situation made things better. She had been hiding it from every single person she’d met and it had been burning a hole inside of her without her realizing it. 

“Arthur,” She spoke suddenly, surprised by the sound of her own voice.

“Yeah, Trixie?” He said, a playful glint in his eye as he glanced over at her. She pressed her lips together in annoyance and refused to let him sway her from what she wanted to say. 

“I wanted to thank you,” The words were hard to push out, and they sounded tense. “For not thinking less of me. Now that you know,” Her hand rubbed against her belly the swell hard under her fingers. 

“Damn, I think less of the father of the baby.” He snarled, anger radiating off of him. 

“Most would think less of me, though. And I feel, at the least, I should thank you.” She pushed through, trying to get her words out and keep from crying. Her eyes prickled anyways and she tried to quickly wipe at them.

“I thought you were just a mean old nag, honestly.” He said, eyes on the trail thankfully. It allowed her the time to right her face. “But shoot, I think I’d be as testy as you if I were in the same situation.” 

“I got myself into it.” She argued. It was confusing, why was she arguing with him?

“Last I checked it takes two to have a baby and the proper response isn’t to pay the woman off and lie to your wife about it.” He set his shoulders and seemed ready to say something else when he pulled up sharp and raised his hand to stop her. Beatrice reined her horse to a stop and looked ahead on the trail. There, in the waving grass of the open prairie was a broken down wagon. 

“Stay here,” he hissed before riding slowly closer. She watched as he pulled his pistol from its holster and held at the ready. For a moment, she scrambled with her clutch and the saddlebags for some kind of weapon she could defend herself with. All that her hand could grasp was a knife in the saddlebag. It was a hunting knife, maybe? She wasn’t exactly well versed in weapons, but she pulled it from its sheath and slowly edged her horse closer towards the broken down wagon. 

Arthur had dismounted and was searching through it. He kicked over a few things she couldn’t make out through the tall grass before jumping into the back of the wagon. He glanced up to see her riding up with the knife in hand. 

“You going to stick someone with that?” He asked, motioning towards the knife. 

“If I have to.” She responded, tension leaving her as he calmly returned to scavenging through the remains. 

“Looks like the axel busted, whoever was riding in this probably abandoned it.” He said, picking through trash that remained. Satisfied no one was going to jump them, Beatrice slid the knife back into its sheath and secreted it back into the saddlebag. 

“But they did leave us a nice present.” Arthur smiled and held a bottle of liquor up, triumphant. 

“I’m afraid its a present you’ll have to enjoy yourself.” She said, only a little pleased nothing bad had happened. Arthur’s brows knitted in confusion a moment before he nodded. 

“Oh, right.” He sheepishly tucked it into his satchel before hoping down out of the wagon. 

“Must we really camp out tonight?” Beatrice asked as Arthur mounted up. He seemed to consider her question carefully for a moment. 

“Well...”

“Well, what?” She pressed. 

“We could bunk at Thieves Landing for the night.” He said before nudging his horse onto the trail again. Beatrice followed as she mulled over the option. 

“Thieves Landing does not sound like a terribly welcoming stop.”

“It isn’t.” He agreed. “But they have a hostel.” A hostel meant a bed, and probably warm food on a plate, maybe even a fork. 

“Would we be safe?” She asked, not ready to say no just yet. 

“I could keep us safe.” Arthur nodded his head, sure of himself and Beatrice believed him. 

“Then let’s do that.” She gave a nod of her head to settle the matter. Arthur glanced over his shoulder at her.

“Alright. Just, stay close to me.” He sounded unsettled and Beatrice wondered exactly what Thieves Landing was like. 

It was greener than she had anticipated. Trees grew tall and shaded the lush, swampy area. A welcomed respite from the heat of the late afternoon as they rode under the swaying branches. It was almost beautiful, until Beatrice saw the squat buildings dug into the landscape. 

They were run down, and grey. Perhaps sitting on the water as they were, building deteriorated much quicker. That didn’t account for the many incredibly rough looking men scatter about. Several of them appeared to be passed out drunk, or dead. Neither option seemed to be minded be the people wandering about. The hostel was set off to one side with a small yard they could hitch their horses in. 

Arthur was quick to help her down and she did honor his request and stayed no more than a step behind him. Eyes were on them and she didn’t really want to start a fight with anyone who chose to live in such a town. 

The hostel was no less grey and run down than the rest of the town and inside wasn’t much better. The clerk at the desk looked uninterested, barely glancing up from his book when Arthur stood in front of the desk. Honestly, Beatrice was impressed that he knew how to read. 

“We’d like a room for the night.”

“Don’t have singles.” The clerk said, bored already. “You can rent a bed, and it won’t have lice but it’s shared rooms only.” His eyes slid around Arthur’s large frame to glance Beatrice over. “Even if the lady is in a delicate condition.” The words were sneered in disdain. Her hands clenched into fists and she was about to take a swing at the guy before Arthur’s hand swung out to stop her. 

“At least a bed big enough for the both of us?” Arthur asked, somehow ignoring the rudeness. 

“Sure,” the clerk shrugged, motioning over his shoulder down a hallway. “Probably.” Arthur tossed a few coins at the desk before walking down the hallway. Beatrice kept pace while glaring at the clerk. He was unaffected by her gaze. 

Arthur checked in the first room to the right and grumbled a bit. Beatrice peaked under his arm and sighed. It wasn’t a very clean room, but the bottom bunk bed was a double. 

“Well, he did say it wouldn’t have lice.” Beatrice said, walking into the room. Arthur followed, grumbling to himself. 

“Strike you as terribly honest, did he?” He said and Beatrice gave a small laugh.

“I suppose not.”

“Do you mind sharing with me?” He asked. The room didn’t appear to have another occupant yet but it was still a likely problem. 

“If we’re keeping up appearances then it would be odd if we didn’t.”

“I don’t care if it's odd, I’m not going to share a bed with you if you’re uncomfortable.” He snapped. Beatrice swallowed her retort and shook her head. 

“I don’t mind.” She didn’t mind it even a little bit. In fact, a part of her that she considered a traitor was very excited at the idea. “We’re not even taking off any clothes. You sleep in your boots most nights.” Her hand motioned towards his feet and Arthur looked down.

“Only because my feet smell.” He said with a grin. 

The small window in the room was quickly growing dim as the sun set. There was a small kerosene lamp set on top of a rickety table with a mirror behind it to brighten the room. Arthur lit it with his own match before sitting on the edge of the bed and unbuckling his gun belt and stuffing it under one of the pillows. Beatrice sat beside him and began unlacing her shoes. She’d keep her stockings on tonight but there was a rock in her shoe that had been bothering her and she needed the break. 

For a moment, Beatrice thought they may not have to worry about upholding the charade of marriage but another man did come into the room. He seemed mildly surprised to see a woman there but shrugged it off.

“You two better not try anything.” He grumbled as he climbed into the top bunk, slinging his bag from his shoulder to the ground with a heavy thud. 

“You better not snore.” Beatrice snipped back. Arthur chuckled as he reached to turn out the lamp. The man above them chucked his boots down to his bag and angrily rolled over.

She let Arthur settled into the bed before trying to find a comfortable spot. It was hard, and the bed was of no help. Old, and lumpy it fought her at every turn but eventually sleep took hold of her and she drifted off. 

When she awoke, it was dark. Dark enough to know even she shouldn’t be awake. But she found her self opening her eyes and just barely able to make out Arthur’s form close beside her. The obnoxious snoring above her was why she was awake. She was for more comfortable than normal though and it took her a moment to understand why. 

In her sleep she had moved closer to Arthur. To start off the night, they had been curled up on opposite sides of the bed. As much space as possible separated them out of politeness. Now, she was pressed against him, the swell of her stomach was resting against his hip and her head was nestled on his shoulder. His breathing was even, but not nearly shallow enough to be asleep. Her eyes roamed upwards and she could just make out the glint of his eyes to know he was awake too. 

She _should_ be embarrassed, She _should_ immediately if the problem. He was being polite and not disturbing her. He knew how difficult it was for her to sleep and wasn't about to ruin that for her for his own sake. A perfect gentleman to a fault, it seemed. She should fix the problem herself and return to the far edge of the bed. 

Instead, she shifted closer against him and closed her eyes. He was unwashed, and dirty and she still enjoyed his scent. Arthur adjusted underneath her and an arm curled against her back in acceptance of her choice. When she fell asleep and dreamed, it was of the nebulous husband with calloused hands and golden beard.


	7. Chapter 7

When morning light broke they both ignored the fact they were tangled together. Arthur rose first and Beatrice pretended to be asleep still as he climbed out of bed. Once she heard him stomp out of the room and close the door behind him she allowed herself to sit up and swing her feet to the floor. As she pulled on her boots, the other occupant of the room roused from the top bunk and jumped down.He gave her a grin that showed a number of missing teeth and looked her over good.

"Tell the truth, you ain't really married to him, is you?" He asked and Beatrice narrowed her eyes dangerously. They had done nothing to raise suspicion, he was grasping at best. "Ain't no married folks come through this way." She finished tying the laces of her boots and stood up, still not answering his taunts. "What happen? He knock you up and now you're making him pay your way? Lucky whore to be so convincing."

Her opinion of whores was quickly changing but that didn't mean the man's words didn't sting a little. Incensed by his flagrant disregard for decorum, she took two steps across the room and slapped him as hard as she could. His head snapped to the side with a violent motion and she could see a red hand print breathing to life across his cheek. 

"I don't know where you get off speaking to anyone that way, let alone a woman you don't know but I have half a mind to rip the hair from your head and choke you with it!" Her voice screeched in anger and she was vaguely aware of the door behind her opening. 

"Hey!" The man returned her ire, holding a hand to his face where she had struck him. "I don't take that shit from my own wife." Raising his hand up as if to strike her, she glared at him, daring him to do it. 

"You'll take that and more if you think you're going to lay a hand on my wife." Arthur's voice boomed in the small room and she could swear the planks nailed to the wall rattled. The man shrank back, immediately dropping his hand to his side. Beatrice glanced over her shoulder as Arthur picked up his things and nodded towards the door. She didn't need to be told twice and they left. There was an offer of food at the desk in front but Beatrice shook her head and kept on walking. The smell was enough to turn her stomach and she wasn't going to risk it. Arthur paused just a moment to glance at the food but followed after her. 

They were mounted up and on the road while the sky was still flush with pink hues. A breeze blew through the swamp as they crossed a bridge out of the small town. Hardly a town really, more a place for thieves to offload stolen goods. Beatrice glanced over her shoulder as it shrank behind them then turned her eyes to Arthur, riding just a few paces ahead of her. 

Lord help her, his shoulders were broad. She already knew how neatly her head fit against one from the night before. Their position was being ignored by the both of them. What was there to say? Anything she said would come off as desperate and anything he said would sound lecherous. A heavy sigh made her shoulders sag as they rode in silence.

The damp grasses blended into the dry, yellow grass of open prairie and Beatrice could appreciate the beauty of the expanse. A few scraggly trees in the distance poked up, hardly casting shade on the open land. 

"We should probably camp a night," Arthur broke the long silence. "We'll make Blackwater by tomorrow." She wasn't sure of the distance herself, but he seemed to know what he was talking about so she didn't argue. Some part of her didn't believe what he'd said before. He would leave her once they reached Blackwater. He couldn't have meant what he'd said. It'd been a heat of the moment declaration and she wouldn't set her clock to it. She didn't want the ride to end, even if it meant a bed to sleep in. Even if it meant no more sleeping on the hard ground with her aching hips and back. 

Before the sun had time to set, Arthur had found a small hollow beside a hill that he seemed to think was a good place to pitch camp. Beatrice spent a little time giving attention to the horses while he wandered off to find some game for dinner. The roan he'd bought for her was growing more affectionate towards her and she had to admit she was going to miss the beast. Brushing out her main, Beatrice picked at a few snarls loose.

A crunch of boots through the grass drew her out of her morose thinking and she turned to see Arthur with a rabbit slung over his shoulder. He glanced at her before setting to work dressing the carcass. Beatrice found it hard to meet his eye and scolded herself for it. Once the rabbit was cooking over the fire, they sat down. She found it a relief to be off her feet. 

"I want to apologize if I made you uncomfortable last night." Arthur finally grumbled. 

"You didn't" She was quick to correct him and realized maybe she had said it too quickly when he looked over at her with a strange look. Keeping her eyes trained on the fire, she successfully managed to ignore how hot her cheeks felt. The conversation died before it started and Arthur relaxed back onto one hand. Pulling the scavenged liquor bottle out of his satchel he popped the cork out and took a swig. She couldn't begrudge him the drink. Lord knows she wished she could have one. 

"Did I make _you_ uncomfortable?" Beatrice finally managed to ask. 

"No!" He hurried to say, grip tight on the neck of the bottle. "It was fine. But I didn't think you'd want to be so _forward_." His tone was teasing and Beatrice allowed a smile on her face.

"We were pretending to be married, weren't we? Not that it stopped that asshole from running his mouth off." She rolled her eyes in remembered annoyance. Arthur took another swig. If she looked, there was a flush slowly moving up his neck to his cheeks, just barely hidden by his neckerchief. 

"I suppose we were. I just didn't want to overstep my bounds." The fire sizzled as fat dripped into it. 

"You must think me a dunce." Beatrice said, looking at her boots. "To get myself into such a situation." 

"Actually I think you're kind of amazing." Arthur said, the flush on his cheeks spreading across his nose. "You just keep going, not taking anyone's shit." 

"Sometimes I feel like all that's keeping me going is the anger in me." She sighed. She was tired, not in a way like she needed sleep. But she needed life to be kind to her, just a little bit.

"I know that feeling." He nodded, staring into the fire and taking another slug off the bottle. "But if it's keeping you going, then don't stop." His knee brushed against her and it made her chest burn. Turning her face away, she couldn't keep her breathing even right then and was glad he was drinking and too oblivious to see her silly reaction. He was so close and she wanted him so badly. 

The thought that she didn't deserve any kind of ill gotten comfort was settled heavy on her shoulders. Even if it would be brief, fleeting and hollow. She was in the position she was because of poor choices on her part and she was suffering the consequences as she should. 

But he was warm. Without her realizing it, their shoulders were pressed together. His body heat radiated into her, warming her more than the fire flickering in front of her. Still tired to her bones, she allowed her head to sink to his shoulder. Arthur shifted under her and she felt the brush of his lips against her hair. 

Turning her face to look up at him, he seemed surprised that she had caught him. The light caught his eyes and made them seem to flicker between blue and green. In a fit of foolishness she surged up and their lips met. He tasted of liquor and woodsmoke and it was delicious. A calloused hand brushed against her jaw and tangled into her hair. All she could do was scramble for him, one hand brushing through the hair that spilled over his collar while the other dragged him closer to her. 

His arms, strong and firm around her, lowered her backwards to the ground and she found herself looking up as Arthur hovered above her. It would have been wonderful if her hips hadn't started aching so. She shifted, trying desperately to find a position she could tolerate and Arthur's lopsided smile faded. 

"Is this alright?" He asked, suddenly worried, and pulled back.

"Yes, except," Beatrice grunted and struggled to sit back up. Arthur gave her a hand as she moved. 

"I was too forward." He said, sheepish and apologetic. 

"No, you idiot." She grumbled at him. "I can't really lay on my back on the ground." It took a moment before understanding blossomed across his face and he nodded. 

"Oh,"

"Oh." She could feel tears welling up in her eyes and she bit down on her lip to try and hold them back. "Dammit" The curse was loud enough to startle the horses. Arthur reached out again and pulled at her arm.

"Hey," He tugged until she complied and he helped her sit in his lap. Her belly made it difficult to maneuver gracefully but she ended up pressed close against him. Arthur managed to string kisses up her neck. "we'll be in Blackwater by tomorrow. They've got a nice hotel. If this is what you want then we'll get a soft bed and try again." She leaned into his hand as he slid it up her neck and into her hair. 

"I do, but I shouldn't." The words were a whisper as his lips ghosted over her jaw. "I shouldn't want this, I shouldn't want you. It's unseemly." Her eyes closed and her hands tightened into the fabric of his shirt. "I've already ruined everything." It had been so long since anyone had touched her kindly and his hands were so gentle on her. 

"You've ruined nothing." His voice was quite to match hers, just below her ear as he kissed the sensitive skin there. "You're not an unseemly person" Tears burst out of her, falling down her eyes as she struggled to control the sobs. Arthur pulled back, startled by her sudden change of emotion. 

"I'm sorry!" She cried, desperately wiping at her cheeks. "I'm sorry. I can't control it right now. It's not you." It was him. God, the first kind words she'd had since that bastard had abandoned her so many months ago and she was a sobbing mess. Arthur folded her against him, cradling her head against her shoulder. He sighed heavy beneath her head and carded his hand through her hair. 

"I remember Abigail would do this sometimes." He said, half laughing. "She'd get stuck crying and it'd make her so mad. She about shot John over it once." 

"John her husband?" Beatrice asked, rubbing at her nose. Arthur rubbed a thumb under her eye to wipe away some tears. 

"Well, something along those lines." He chuckled. "He's about as smart as a bag of rocks but I imagine he means well." That made sense to her. It was hard to imagine a gang having a proper church wedded couple in it. Her tears had slowed and sniffed to hold it back, pulling her handkerchief from inside the cuff of her dress where she kept it. Wiping at her face, she tried to center herself. 

"Feeling better?" Arthur asked, brushing hair behind her ear. Beatrice nodded and tucked the handkerchief away. 

"I'm sorry." It felt like she was forever repeating herself now.

"Ah," He grumbled dismissively and they shifted once again so she was sitting beside him again. "I know it's tough." Poking at the rabbit over the fire, he began cutting off pieces onto a plate and handed it to her. "I also know you're more pleasant when you're full so eat." She had to admit the smell was alluring and her stomach was rumbling at her in protest. The grease would cause her heartburn when she tried to sleep but it was worth it. 

"You must think me a harlot." She said as she picked at the meat with her fingers. It was still too hot to pick up though. Arthur laughed hard at that. 

"I know harlots, you are not one." He glanced over to her then nudged her shoulder. 

"I'm sorry I must be insulting your friends." She suddenly felt ashamed of how rude she was being.

"Just a little." Arthur was still smiling. "But I don't think they'd hold it against you."


	8. Chapter 8

The sun rose warm, waking Beatrice softly among the chill of early morning. Arthur was curled against her and his coat was pulled over her shoulder. It was easy to see a change in his demeanor, more relaxed than he had been. She wondered if he had been holding himself back as much as she had. 

Blackwater was near, they would be there before the evening and she found herself looking forward to reaching their destination more than she ever thought she would. Suddenly it seemed as if there was an end to her misery in sight, something to look towards instead of constantly focusing on her shortcomings. This part of her life would have a finishing point and it really felt like she could start anew. 

The buildings rose up over the crest of a hill, slowly growing closer as they rode and shadows shifted as the sun traveled with them. A few large homes sat on the hills surrounding the town and Beatrice wondered which house was Mr. Edwards.

In the saloon, Arthur insisted she sit down and he would bring her a plate of food. It was clear he was in a pleasant mood now, giving her a broad grin as he walked off. Beatrice found a table tucked in a corner, in front of the large windows of the saloon. The sunlight was nice, streaming in and lighting up the small saloon. She smiled broadly out onto the street only for it to fall from her face when a familiar figure walked by. 

Edwards paused and looked into the saloon. His brows jumped up in surprise at seeing her and he rushed in.

“Bea!” He exclaimed, throwing himself into the chair opposite her. “I was worried about you!”

“Really?” Her face screwed together in confusion. 

“Yes, of course! When I heard no correspondence from Richards I assumed the worst. Is the baby okay?” His eyes dropped to her stomach and he reached across the table as if to touch her. Beatrice was quick to push his hand away and scoot her chair as far back as she could manage. 

“Richards is dead.” She said flatly. “We were attacked by outlaws.” Edwards took a moment to register her words and slowly dragged his eyes back up to her face. 

“How did you manage, then?” He was flabbergasted. The idea she could manage on her own seemed foreign to him and she thought bitterly how he had expected her to manage on her own until it benefited him. A plate of food set itself down on the table between her and Edwards. Beatrice dragged her eyes up to see Arthur leering at the man, a snarl on his face.

“This gentleman has been helping me. Arthur has been very kind to me.” She tried to give him a smile but she had no idea what to do. Edwards smirked up at Arthur and Beatrice wished he would drop dead there of a heart attack. 

“However can I repay you for helping this poor, unfortunate woman.” He reached into his breast pocket. 

“I don’t want your money.” Arthur growled. Edwards laughed a bit, shaking his head. 

“Hard to believe anyone does a kind deed without a desire for reparations. You’re a good man, sir.” 

“Hardly.” Arthur’s hands strayed to his belt, one hand resting on the grip of his holstered gun. “But I don’t often leave women to rot.” His eyes narrowed as he glared but Edwards only smiled. The man seemed oblivious to the heat of anger radiating off Arthur. 

“Well, where are you staying. I, of course, will pay for accommodations.” Edwards returned his attention to Beatrice as if Arthur were dismissed. 

“The hotel, I believe. We hadn’t paid for a room yet.” Beatrice said, unable to pick up the silverware and eat just yet. 

“Oh, so this man will be staying with you?” Edwards’ face fell into a judgmental scowl. He glanced quickly up at Arthur and then back to Beatrice. 

“I’ll be the lady’s escort until this business is done.” Arthur grumbled, still standing tall beside her.

“I see.” Edwards finally bothered to realize that Arthur was ready to strangle him. “Well, I will forward money to the hotel. Tell the clerk my name and he will start up a tab for you. My wife would dearly like to meet you and discuss womanly things with you. Perhaps, when you have settled,” Again his eyes raked over Beatrice. “And perhaps bathed, you would feel up to visiting us?”

“Seems reasonable.” She said, eyes downcast. There was no reason she could think of to deny the woman a discussion of necessary things. 

“Wonderful, we will await your visit, then.” Edwards stood up, eyeing Arthur as he did. “And Beatrice,” She looked up from her lap to see him leaning on the table. “I don’t think I will have to explain why you shouldn’t discuss our former acquaintance.”

“I think you’d better go.” Arthur said, pushing him away from their table. Edwards roughly brushed Arthur’s hands off. 

“I shall, but I warn you, sir. I am only helping her, it isn’t wise to threaten someone who’s helping those less fortunate.” Edwards scowled at Beatrice before straightening his coat and stalking off. Arthur was breathing heavy through his nose, his eyes following after Edwards until the man was out of sight. Seemingly satisfied he was gone, Arthur relaxed into the chair opposite Beatrice and sighed. Tension drained from his face. 

“He was much nicer when I first met him.” She said, wanting to defend herself. How could she have ever felt anything for such a man?

“I’m sure he was,” Arthur waved his hand dismissively. “They always are.” They sat in silence as Beatrice ate. Her appetite was gone but she knew she had to eat at least a little, Arthur had spent his own money on the food after all. 

“You don’t have to give him the baby.” Arthur said quietly, looking out the window instead of at her. 

“I don’t want it.” She replied, just as quietly. Arthur’s head snapped around, surprised by her response. A blush warmed her cheeks in shame and she kept her eyes downcast.

“The way you spoke before, I thought-“ He stumbled on his words and grasped to understand. 

“I don’t want _this_ baby.” With a sigh, she looked out the window, avoiding his stare. “I don’t want _his_ baby. A poor creature that’s brought me nothing but trouble and deserves none of the anger I feel towards it. It would be better to give it to someone who wants it. Who won’t be reminded of someone they hate every time they look at its face.” Her lip was stiff as she tried to control her emotions. “I can’t have it and I don’t want it.” Arthur was silent as she spoke. “After I knew, I went to an old woman a friend told me about. She said she could help me, but it had been too long. I hadn’t realized soon enough and then it was too dangerous for her to help me.”

The silence between them stretched on and it hurt her every moment longer it went on. When she could no longer bear it, Beatrice neatly folded her napkin and stood from the table. With a prim nod of her head, she turned and began walking out of the saloon.

“Trixie, wait.” Arthur called after her, his boots thudding as he jogged to catch up. 

“If you no longer wish to escort me, I will not demand it of you. You’ve done what I asked.” She turned to face him and stopped, still not looking him in the eye. 

“I wasn’t gonna, I didn’t mean to,” He sighed and was silent a moment looking for the right words. “I didn’t mean to make you feel bad about it. I was just surprised. I didn’t understand.”

“I don’t understand it myself.” Beatrice admitted. “It’s hard to admit to myself. It feels like a monstrous thing to speak out loud. If you are repulsed by me, I understand.” 

“Trixie,” Arthur gave a breathless laugh. “I was practically raised by a Madam. Some of my closest friends are working girls. You think I ain’t been told on _several_ occasions what a burden children are to those that don’t want them? What a struggle it is for a woman to bear alone? My friend, Abigail? She wanted that baby, she loved the father. Still does, lord bless her. She wasn’t alone in the world, neither.” Her eyes were stinging as he spoke and Arthur raised a hand to rest on her arm. 

“Why couldn’t it have been like that for me?” She asked, her lip trembling. His arms engulfed her, pulling her against his chest where she let tears soak into his shirt.

“I don’t know. Life ain’t never made much sense to me.” He admitted. “I ain’t just gonna leave you, though. I told you. I’m staying with you until you get back on your feet. I’m sorry I upset you.” 

“No, you didn’t.” Beatrice pulled away from him, wiping at her eyes with the cuff of her sleeve. “You weren’t trying to hurt me. You have been far more patient than I would have ever given you credit for.” 

“How about we go run up a big old tab for Mr. Edwards to pay? Get yourself a fancy bath and everything.” He suggested, taking her hand and settling it into the crook of his elbow. “I know it would make me exceedingly happy to make that bastard pay a little extra.” Beatrice smiled, sniffing a bit.

“That does sound nice.”

“Then that’s what we’ll do.” They walked down the sidewalk together.


	9. Chapter 9

Arthur kept an arm around her back as they walked into the hotel. Beatrice admitted to herself that she liked the idea of people thinking she was married. She had already suffered so many dark looks, it was a relief to see a few smiles. The desk clerk even gave a glance over her belly and smiled at the two of them. 

"We'd like a room, please. We're guests of Mr. Edwards and he said to put it on his tab. He'd forward the money shortly." Arthur spoke as if he hadn't been ready to pound Edwards' skull in not fifteen minutes ago.

"Of course sir." The clerk was quick to write something down in the large book before him before reaching for a key from the pegboard on the wall. 

"And my wife would like a bath as well. We've been traveling and you can imagine how hard it's been." Beatrice smiled up at Arthur out of the corner of her eye. He could have been an actor, tripping the boards, had he wished. The clerk gave a nod and motioned up the stairs. 

"It should be ready momentarily." He said, courteous and professional. 

"Do you want help?" Arthur turned his eyes to Beatrice, hand still resting lightly on the small of her back. 

"No, I can still manage a bath on my own." She wanted to laugh. How quickly her mood could shift. It felt as though she had no control over it anymore. At least she wasn't miserable at the moment. Arthur slipped the room key into her hand.

"Alright, I'm going to pick up some supplies at the general store. You enjoy yourself." He ducked a bit and laid a chaste kiss on her cheek. Beatrice's cheeks flamed hot and she stilled a bit in surprised. Before he turned away, Arthur glanced back to the clerk and placed a few coins on the counter. "Make sure it's a really nice bath." 

"Of course, sir!" The clerk quickly pocketed the change. Arthur nodded at him before leaving. Beatrice had to shake off the fuzzy feeling in her chest before heading up the stairs. At the top of the stairs she easily found a room labeled 'BATH'. 

Inside was steamy and smelled nice. A floral, herb scent floated thick on the air. In the middle of the room a large copper tub sat, a folded towel over one part of the rim as a pillow. By the large mirror in the corner, a chair with a rattan back sat. She began peeling her clothes off and laying them neatly on the chair.

It was hard to peel herself away from the mirror. The swell of her body seemed so foriegn now. Her stomach was heavy enough to change her balance and make her sway back now. There was no denying the waddle she had now. Under her palm, the skin was tight and hard. A knock at the door pulled her from her self examination. 

"Ma'am," the light voice of a woman carried through the door. "you wanted a deluxe bath?" Beatrice pulled a towel off a nearby rack and wrapped it around herself before answering. 

"Yes, I did." Her stomach still poked out of the towel. There was just no way to hide her size now. A slight woman, younger than her, stepped into the room carefully holding a tray of tea and food. 

"Oh my, the clerk didn't mention you were pregnant. I see why he specified tea." She titered pleasantly and set the tray on a nearby table. 

"Would you mind helping me in?" Beatrice asked. The sides of the tub where high and the floor was damp with condensation. 

"Oh, of course!" The woman's hands were chilled compared to the warmth of the room and the water was pleasantly hot as Beatrice sank into it, draping the towel over the edge of the tub. 

"So you and your husband been traveling much?" The young woman asked as she moved around the room. Sweet smelling oil was dropped into the tub around her as well as few flower heads. 

"Been on the road since Tumbleweed." Beatrice said. She thought that was the name of that little town. How different things had been then. 

"Goodness! No wonder you're in need of a deluxe bath! Traveling in your condition must have been murder." The woman bustled about the room before laying the tray she'd carried in across the tub. An ornate cup of tea was set in front of Beatrice along with a plate of small tea sandwiches. 

"It was a trial." Beatrice admitted, picking up the tea. After taking a sip, she laid her head back on the towel draped over the edge and sighed. She could feel her entire body relaxing into the warm water. 

"Would you like help washing?" The girl asked. Beatrice was about to say no, but then thought again.

"Perhaps some help with my legs and feet? It _is_ hard to bend." She asked, opening an eye to gauge the girls reactions. 

"Oh of course!" She jumped to help, picking up a wash cloth and soap to settled at the far end of the tub. "You know, my sister was pregnant just recently. Had a lovely little girl. They're not so pleasant right when they come out but they do grow on you. I remember how she was right before. So big she could hardly move" Beatrice closed her eyes again as the girl talked on. She was so excited to talk and Beatrice was happy to relax as the girl helped her wash. 

She had nearly fallen asleep when the girl finished and gently placed her foot back in the water. 

"Alright, if you need anything just give a shout. I'll be outside the door and hear you." The girl refilled Beatrice's cup before she left and placed the pot on the tray. She closed the door softly on her way out and Beatrice was left on her own. The silence in the room seemed deafening after the girl was gone.

Once she had finished, and eaten every tea cake on the plate, she struggled to get out on her own only to end up laughing at herself. The girl poked her head in at the noise with a concerned look on her face.

"Are you alright, ma'am?"

"I'm afraid I need help out." Beatrice said, laughing still. The girl stepped in and wiped her hands on her apron.

"Oh of course! Here," She pulled the tray away from the tub and reached a hand under Beatrice's arm to help her stand and steady herself as she stepped over the edge.

"Thank you, I think that will be enough." Beatrice said once her feet were stable on the ground. The girl left with a nod and she was left to dress herself. 

Outside of the bathroom the air felt markedly chilly and she felt the sweat on her skin cool quickly. She had to look at the key in her pocket to find the room number and was pleased to see the room right across the hall. 

It was a _nice_ room and she wondered at the clout Edwards name held in this town. A four post bed was in the corner, diagonal across the floor. Beside it were ornate tables and gas lamps with glass shades painted with flowers. A vanity with a mirror sat to one side beside a large window. Sheer curtains hung around it, softening the sunlight of late afternoon as it streamed in. She sat at the dainty chair beside it and dried her hair with a towel brought from the bathroom. While her head was hidden in a towel she heard the door open behind her. Pulling the fabric away she looked over her shoulder to see Arthur watching her from the doorway. 

He was clean too, she noticed first. He must have gotten a bath for himself as well. His hair was trimmed and his face was bare. A fresh shirt, unstrained with trail dust was on his chest and he had pulled his hat from his head. Perhaps to show off his new hair cut.

"Well now I feel under prepared." She said, tossing the towel over the back of the chair. "We going somewhere nice?" Arthur blushed and shrugged, setting his hat on a nearby dresser. 

"Aw, you look nicer than me." He said, looking down. 

"Hardly. I look like a stuffed pig in a dress." Leveraging herself up from the chair, she pushed her wet tangled hair out of her face. Arthur crossed the floor and slipped a hand around her back.

"You really do look nice." He smelled nice now, clean soap and aftershave hanging around him. She wanted to bury her face in his bare chest and smell him forever. “Smell good too.”

“That bath had to be very expensive.” Beatrice said, smirking up at him. Arthur’s eyes smiled down at her for a moment before he slipped a hand against her jaw and leaned down to kiss her lips softly. 

“I ordered room service as well.” He whispered against her cheek. His hands danced along her sides and it felt like electricity was shooting out of her. When he moved to rest it on the swell of her stomach Beatrice sucked in a breath of air. Despite his protests it was hard to imagine him not being repulsed by the size of her. A knock came from the door, startling her and making Arthur sigh. 

“Room service!” A cheery voice called out. Arthur stomped to open the door and the girl who had helped Beatrice bathe stepped in with a large tray in her arms. Arthur moved quickly to take it from her, and the girl smiled brightly at the two of them. 

“Just let me know if you need anything else!” She was so cheerful, Beatrice wondered briefly if she took some kind of medication to achieve that. 

“That’ll be all, thank you.” Arthur said, moving to set the tray on the dresser beside his hat. The girl paused only a moment before saying her goodbyes and leaving quickly. The smell from the tray was divine and Beatrice hurried to see. Lifting the lid from the plate, she gasped to see a pricy cut of meat sitting on the plate with a garden of vegetables nestled beside it. 

“Hungry?” Arthur asked. “We could wait to work up an appetite.” His hand strayed to move a strand of hair over her shoulder, behind her ear. 

“It probably won’t be as good once it’s cold.” She said, her eyes closing at his touch. 

“Oh yes, and it be a shame to waste that money.” He joked into her neck and Beatrice couldn’t stall any longer. Turning into him, she draped her arms over his shoulders and pulled him into a kiss. Seeking him out as their mouths parted, she kissed up his jaw as far as she could reach. Arthur gave a grunt and swept her up in his arms. Turning, he dropped her into the bed and the slats groaned under the sudden weight. 

He began unbuttoning his shirt and Beatrice climbed to her knees to help him. Underneath, pale skin coated in light hair peaked out. After a moment, his hands dropped away and Beatrice undressed him on her own. Tugging the shirt from his pants, it fell open to reveal his chest. Scars were scattered across the broad expanse of muscle and she couldn’t help but run her hands along it in amazement. 

While she was mesmerized by his chest, Arthur moved his hands along her jaw to her neck and began working at the buttons of her blouse. His thumb slipped below the fabric to rub against her collar bone and she shivered at the touch. Once her blouse was opened, his hands moved down to the swell of her breasts. They were barely contained by the top of her corset and swell of her stomach had rendered the garment mostly useless. There was no money for a new pregnancy corset so she had made do with what she had. 

Other ladies, with money to burn, could have had a nice corset that would fit their growing stomach. Beatrice had felt shame as she showed, her clothes bunching up awkwardly. Now, bare before Arthur, her cheeks blushed and she drew back. 

“Trixie,” Arthur’s voice was soft as he leaned in, brushing across the softness of her breasts before reaching behind her. “I want to see all of you.” 

“Why?” She asked as if she didn’t believe him. He was too good at undoing corset laces, Beatrice noticed. Carefully he pulled it away and dropped it to the floor. Clever hands slid under her chemise and up her ribs. It felt nice to be treated gently and she leaned into his touch.

“Because I love the sight of you.” It was so close to a dangerous confession and Beatrice strained to keep her heart from beating out of her chest. “Because your shape is pleasing to me.” He rucked her chemise up over her stomach and slid a hand along the length of it. “Because I haven’t been able to stop thinking of you without clothes on since last night.” 

“Were you ever intimate with your _friend_?” She wondered at what the life of a working girl was like inside of a gang. Arthur smirked and shook his head. 

“Not since she fell for John, long before he knocked her up. Years, I think. She was fairly private about intimates once she stopped working.” He seemed distracted by her body and Beatrice couldn’t help but feel something almost like pride to have him so enthralled with her. 

Shrugging off her blouse, she began undoing her skirts. Arthur seemed to realize he wasn’t done yet and fumbled with his belt. As she struggled out of her clothes, Beatrice tipped back onto the bed. Arthur laughed and grabbed at her drawers, tugging them down over her hips and legs. His own pants fell away as he climbed into the bed towards her. She would be lying if she said she wasn’t impressed by his size. 

“I don’t know how easy this could be.” Beatrice admitted as Arthur climbed over her. His hands couldn’t stay off her body, stroking along her stomach and sides. 

“We’ll go slow then, if you want it.” He paused, looking up at her.

“I want it.” Her words were a growl and she reached up to him tangling her fingers in his freshly clipped hair and pulling him down on top of her. If she could smother him in kisses she would. 

“Alright, alright,” He laughed against her skin and pulled back. His eyes roved over her as he thought, then he glanced up to the headboard of the bed. “Alright, I got an idea then.” Piling the numerous pillows up against the headboard, Arthur settled himself back and patted his legs. 

“Come here, Darling.” The sound of him crooning an endearment was enough to make her fight back tears as she moved to straddle his legs. He grabbed her hips and turned her to face away from him. Guiding her back against his chest, they adjusted until his cock sprung up between her thighs. Arthur rested his head against her shoulder and let his hands wander over her body once more. 

Beatrice allowed herself to relax back, her head tipping back onto his shoulder. A hiss slipped out of her as his hand brushed over one erect nipple. Her hips bucked and she could feel his shaft rub against her sensitive nether regions. Arthur paused his hand, resting it lightly against the breast.

“No, no don’t stop.” She begged. “Just be light.” Her hand flew up to make him keep moving. He chuckled in her and kissed at her neck as his hand started playing with the nipple again. 

“All of you this sensitive?” He asked, voice thick and husky. The heat of his breath warmed her neck as she swallowed hard and nodded.

“I’d imagine so.” Her voice faltered as he softly rolled the nipple between his fingers. His other hand slid over her stomach, reaching between her legs to find her wet folds. As quickly as his deft fingers found her sensitive nub, Beatrice imagined he’d done this quite a lot. Maybe his working girl friends had given him lessons. Before she had much of a chance to ponder it, Arthur was pulling moans out of her. Her mind was quickly emptying of thought, driven away by the pleasure she was having. 

Turning her face, she could twist enough to capture his lips and they twined together as Arthur played with her. A thick finger slipped inside her and she moaned into his mouth before pulling back to gasp for air. It seemed hard to breathe now, and all she wanted was more. Her hand fell between her legs to find his shaft. Still erect and pressing up against her. She gave it a few long strokes before Arthur cussed and placed his hand over hers. 

“You’re gonna make me finish before we start.” He said, desperately trying to hold onto control.

“I’ve hardly done anything.” She stuttered out. In response, Arthur moved his hands under her thighs and raised her up. Carefully lining things up, he lowered her back down. His cock shifted a moment before slipping into her. 

It was better than she’d ever felt. Every inch he filled her seemed to press thoughts from her mind. The long, gasping moan she let out as she sank onto him was too loud and she couldn’t care. She wanted him inside her forever. Arthur’s knees came up, inside her legs and spread. He held her open as he slowly thrust upward. A hand returned to her clit, hardly brushing near it before eliciting a response. Her hips jerked up then down onto him. 

“You do plenty to me.” He growled into her neck, kissing and nipping along her shoulder. “You gorgeous creature.” The heat in her chest moved to pool in her hips and she struggled to keep his rhythm. His free arm was holding her to his chest, clutching her close as they moved together. Beatrice felt herself building towards her climax and she clung to his arms, anything to keep herself from floating away. Arthur threw his head back, moaning.

“Arthur,” His name was a breath stolen from her lungs. “Don’t pull out.” She begged. For a moment she was sure he would protest, and she did feel him pause for a second. “Faster,” if she could find her footing she would have done it herself but Arthur’s raised knees kept her off kilter. After taking a second to process her request, he obliged, ramming up into her fast enough she needed him to hold her tight. 

Her moans were quickly becoming screams and Arthur captured her mouth with his, swallowing them as they both reached their end. With a last strong thrust, Arthur pushed her over the edge with him and they trembled against each other. 

When she could understand words again, Beatrice realized Arthur was whispering praise in her ear. His hand was slowly stroking down her side, warm against the cooling sweat on her skin. Turning her head, she inhaled his smell as his stubble scratched her nose. Their chests heaved in time. Once she had caught her breath enough, Beatrice raised her hand to cup his jaw. 

“That was,” Her words failed as her brain slowly came back to life. 

“Amazing.” Arthur finished for her, pecking at her cheek. She nodded her head and relaxed, limp against his chest. Held in his arms, she wished she could stay there forever.


	10. Chapter 10

When Beatrice awoke, the sky was the blueish grey just before sunrise. She found herself still in Arthur’s arms. The memory of the previous night made her warm inside, but her need to pee pulled her out of bed. With a careless air, she threw on clothes and hurried out of the room in search of the outhouse. The morning was crisp and the town was mostly still asleep, a few shop owners were just starting to attend to their morning duties. 

Back in the room, Arthur was still asleep. The sheets were tangled around his legs and his bare chest was too inviting to ignore. Climbing back into bed, she tried to wiggle back into his hold. Arthur obliged by wrapping his thick arms around her tight.

She wanted to drift back to sleep listening to his even breathing in her ear. But thoughts, doubts plagued her as she lay in silence. Arthur seemed to practically worship her body when it was full and swollen, would he still want her after she had given birth? After she had given her infant away? What if his desire to stay with her was purely because of the money she’d gain? The last idea made her scoff, he seemed so genuine. Surely she was not so naive as to be fooled, but then again she had seen was a sincere actor he was. 

Rough lips pressed behind her ear and Arthur took in a deep breath as he stirred. His arms tightened in a squeeze for a moment. When he was so affectionate the worries in her mind fled. Chased away by his hands roaming her body. She had to believe his intentions were honest. She had to. 

“Sleep well?” He murmured, voice slurred with sleep. Beatrice hummed a yes and rolled over to burrow against his chest. Arthur raised a hand to smooth her hair down then kissed her forehead. 

“I always seem to sleep better with you nearby.” She said against his skin. Arthur squeezed her tighter before letting his hand roam south. 

“How are you feeling this morning?” His voice cleared of sleep, but there was a distinct rumble to it that Beatrice was learning the meaning of. Through the sheets, she could feel his morning excitement pressing against her thighs. 

“Will it always be like this?” Beatrice asked. Her tone was far less playful but she couldn’t let her worries sit. Arthur’s face scrunched up in confusing, not quite understanding. “Are we doing this? Whatever _this_ is?” For a moment his mouth gaped, struggling for an answer. 

“Hell of a conversation before the sun’s all the way up.” He said with a gruff chuckle. 

“I’m sorry, I know it’s a sudden question but we were so sudden. And I can’t be making the same mistakes again.” Beatrice pushed away from Arthur, his hand slid down her arm trying to keep her close as she sat up. “You say you’re going to stay with me, are you really? If you’re not, just be honest. We can keep enjoying each other, I just can’t go through that again.” Tears started to sting her eyes. “I can’t be thrown away again.” Arthur lurched forward, jerking Beatrice against him. 

“I ain’t gonna throw you away. I don’t know what we are, just yet, but I ain’t one to treat women like they’re disposable. I ain’t like him.” He crushed her against him, and she appreciated the effort he put into keeping her close. “We’ll figure it out, okay?” Lips pressed against her temple, holding her close to him. Gulping down air, Beatrice managed to right herself and relax in his hold. After a moment he let go of her and reached up to brush hair from her face. 

“You’re supposed to go meet the wife today, right?” He asked. Beatrice nodded and settled. “Well, we get ourselves looking real good before we go. I’ll be with you.” 

“Thank you,” Beatrice managed to sound more sure than she felt, wiping away tears from her eyes. 

As they finished dressing, a knock came from the door. Arthur called out and the young woman came in, holding out an envelope. 

“Mr. Edwards sent you a note. Said to deliver it right away.” Her eyes danced between the two and Beatrice stepped forward to take it. Ripping an edge of the envelope she pulled out the note. Before she read it, she glanced up at the girl who seemed to have forgotten herself while looking at Arthur. Suddenly realizing she was no longer needed the girl gave an embarrassed smile before fleeing the room. Beatrice smiled to herself before looking at the note. 

“Edwards has sent us his address and some hours to visit.” She read along. “And also advises me once again to not mention our previous liaisons.” 

“He really is a bastard.” Arthur grumbled, snatch the note out of her hand to glare at. “Even his handwriting is shitty.” 

“We had best go along. I’ll ask at the front desk but I believe his house is that big one we passed, on the outskirts of town.” She tapped the empty envelope against her hand as she peered out a window. Arthur slid the note into his vest pocket before sitting to pull on his boots. 

Outside, Beatrice had asked to walk the distance. It wasn’t terribly far and as fond as she had grown of the roan, she really couldn’t handle sitting on it much more. Arthur followed her as she waddled along the side of the road. 

“Do you think they have a dog?” Her mind wandered yet again as she looked at the rolling hills surrounding the town. 

“What?” Arthur turned to look at her though she kept her attention on the countryside. 

“I just, a kid should have a dog, shouldn’t they? It’d be nice if they had a dog.” Her emotions regarding the baby inside her were complicated, and more mixed up than she could really explain, but she did want it to be happy. 

“Maybe they could get a dog.” Arthur suggested, confused but willing to go along with what Beatrice had to say.

“That’s true.” As they crested a hill and the large house the clerk had described came into view. It was two stories with white clapboard and dark blue shutters. Beatrice paused outside the fence, hand on the gate as she looked it over. It had a big yard, and the prairie rolled out before it. It could be a good place for a kid to grow up. No dog though, that she could see. Arthur stood beside her before holding out his arm. Taking a deep breath, she clung to his elbow and the two walked up to the front door. 

An old maid opened the door, welcoming them in and showing them to a lavish sitting room. Beatrice could only gawk at the furniture, wandering to the mantle of the fireplace to examine the china figures along the wood. 

“You must be Beatrice.” An excited voice said front the doorway. Beatrice turned to see a tall, willowy creature dressed in the latest fashion. Her hair was piled up on her head in a very modern style and she smiled so brightly at Beatrice she couldn’t help but smile back. 

“Mrs. Edwards?” Beatrice asked. The woman nearly ran across the room, stopping herself at the last moment before sweeping Beatrice up in a hug. 

“Yes, oh, forgive my forwardness. I know this must be difficult for you,” Mrs. Edwards looked her over, eyes smiling at her large stomach. “Call me Clara. I cannot thank you enough for what you’re doing for me. For us.” Beatrice felt something in her relax. Mr. Edwards might be an awful man, but Mrs. Edwards, Clara, seemed just right. 

“And is the escort Rupert mentioned?” Her eyes turned to Arthur and he shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot. “How can I thank you for making sure Beatrice arrived safely to us?” She was quick to grab up his hand and shake it. “Such a kind deed. Rupert said you two were staying at the hotel in town, could I possibly persuade you to stay here with us?” 

Mr. Edwards chose that moment to walk into the room and kill the mood Clara had managed to raise. Arthur withdrew his hand and went stiff, glaring at him as he sauntered in. 

“Now dear, I tried to talk them into it but I think they want their privacy.” He slipped a hand around her waist and laid a kiss on her cheek. Beatrice looked away at the kiss, shame in her gut burning. 

“How much longer do you think it will be?” Clara asked, slipping free of her husband’s touch. She seemed oblivious to his advances towards her. 

“The doctor I spoke to out west didn’t have much of an idea, but I’m thinking another month. If I’ve got my timing right.” Beatrice kept her eyes on Clara, desperately trying to ignore Edwards. 

“Oh, that’s just fine. Wouldn’t have wanted you traveling much later than that. Would you like to see the nursery?” Clara held out her hand. 

“You’ve already got a nursery?” Beatrice asked, intrigued. Clara nodded eagerly and Beatrice allowed her to take her and and lead her up the stairs. Arthur stayed behind in the sitting room with Edwards.

“Beatrice, I have not been blessed with fertility I am afraid.” The woman confided in her. “But my heart has ached to have a family. To have a sweet little child of my own.” She paused in front of a door. Taking a breath, she pushed the door open and let Beatrice walk in. “I know this arrangement is a bit unusual, Rupert tried to talk me out of meeting you. He said it wasn’t proper, but I couldn’t.” 

Inside the room was soft, a crib to one side sat under a gauzy curtain. Toys were arranged neatly around the room and a large wardrobe stood against one wall. Beatrice was sure it was already filled with clothes and diapers waiting to be used. 

“I can only imagine what your situation has been like, and I couldn’t not meet you. Not tell you how thankful I am to you. I wanted you to know I will love this child so much.” Clara stood in the doorway as Beatrice walked around the room, letting her hand trail across a stack of storybooks. 

“Would you get them a dog?” Beatrice asked, her voice shaking.

“I’m sorry?” Clara asked, confused. 

“A child should have a dog.” She turned to look at the fine lady, tears welling up in her eyes. Clara took a breath before moving to hug Beatrice tightly. 

“Of course a child should have a dog.” She said, breathless in agreement.


	11. Chapter 11

When the two women returned downstairs, Edwards was sitting sullenly in a chair while Arthur glared at him from across the room. Both looked up as the women walked in. Beatrice walked to Arthur, her hand slipped to his chest and he glanced down at her sudden public affection. Brows knitted together as she slipped the note out of his vest pocket and hid it in her hand. Understanding bloomed across his face.

“Beatrice,” Clara smiled at her. “If you won’t stay with us at least let me send a midwife to check on you. I want you and the baby safe.”

“A fair request.” Beatrice admitted. 

“And please, feel free to come by anytime. We could have tea.” Clara offered, still so eager. 

“Of course, but I would like to go have lunch now. We had a late night last night and I’m afraid I get tired so easily.” Beatrice said, taking Arthur’s arm and heading towards the front door. Clara was quick to step forward and hold out a hand to shake. 

“Thank you again for agreeing to meet with me.” As she spoke, Beatrice took her hand. Clasping it in both of hers, she shook it before saying her goodbyes Ana’s leaving. Edwards didn’t even get out of his chair as they left.

“What did you just do?” Arthur asked as they walked back towards Blackwater, as if he didn’t know.

“I gave her the note. She’s a good woman. She deserves to know what kind of man her husband is. Who the father of the baby is.” Beatrice felt like she had made the right choice for the first time in a long time. Her hand held up some of the weight of her belly as she walked. Arthur chuckled beside her. 

“Do you think she’ll still want the baby after she knows the truth?” He asked. Beatrice froze, the thought hadn’t occurred to her and she’s was once again unsure of herself. Arthur looked like he regretted speaking and shook his head. 

“Hey, don’t listen to me. I’m sure she will. I never seen a woman so desperate for a baby.” He reached out, laying an arm across her back. Beatrice nodded but didn’t quite listen. Her mood didn’t lift. 

“Come on, I saw they had an honest to god moving picture show here.” He began steering her down the streets. She appreciated the effort he was making and tried to go along with it. 

It was cool in the theater, dark and the seats cushy. Once the moving pictures started playing, Arthur stretched out an arm and rested it across the back of her seat. He was trying very hard to not look at her as it laid there. Beatrice smirked and leaned into his chest. He gave a deep sigh and curled his arm around her. 

The moving picture was short, and afterwards they ate at the saloon again. Underneath the table, her hand managed to find Arthur’s knee and squeeze it. He blushed and Beatrice realized all she really wanted was to be close to Arthur and she could have that back in the hotel room. They discussed having a picnic out on the plains in the next day or two as they walked back. At the hotel, an older woman stood up as they walked into the lobby and made a beeline for them.

“You must be Beatrice.” She said, holding out her hand. “I’m Elizabeth, the midwife Mrs. Edwards sent over.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry. We hadn’t realized you would come over so quickly or we would have met you sooner.” Beatrice rushed to apologize but the midwife shook her head and dismissed it. 

“Not at all, Mrs. Edwards is very eager I can tell so I expected something like this to happen. Now, would you mind if I examined you up in your room?” She motioned up the stairs with her arm.

“Oh yes, of course.” Beatrice lead the way while Arthur trailed behind like a lost puppy. At the door to the room, the midwife paused and looked him over top to bottom.

“Maybe you should wait out here?” She suggested and Arthur flushed, shuffling his feet. Beatrice shook her head. Arthur was the only person she had in her corner, she wasn’t about to leave him outside will a stranger poked and prodded her all over. 

“I’d prefer if he was with me.” She reached around the midwife and pulled Arthur through the threshold. Elizabeth didn’t look terribly impressed, her mouth pressed into a thin line as she closed the door behind her. 

“Sit.” She commanded him, pointing to a chair in the far corner. “And don’t get up.” Arthur immediately sat, trying to make himself seem as a small as he could. “And if I could have you lay out on the bed, dear.” Her tone changed instantly as she turned back to Beatrice. In her hand was a black doctors case that she sat on the dresser and opened up as Beatrice settled into the mattress. She pulled out a tailors measuring tape and peculiar thin funnel. 

“Been feeling movement?” She asked as she moved beside the bed. 

“Yeah, thing kicks me plenty. Mostly in the bladder.” 

“I’ll need you to take your corset off, it you’re still wearing one.” Elizabeth said. “Do you want help?” Beatrice shook her head and sat up. It was a struggle to get undressed enough she could remove the garment, but soon enough she was down to her chemise and drawers. Elizabeth glared at Arthur over her shoulder as Beatrice undressed. He was wisely keeping his attention focused out the window. 

“Gonna pull your chemise up for a bit.” She said kindly before pulling the fabric over her stomach. Her hands were cold as she felt around Beatrice’s stomach. Seemingly satisfied with what she could find, she took the funnel and held it against the swollen skin before leaning over and pressing her ear to the flair at the small end. 

“What’s that?” Arthur asked suddenly. Elizabeth shushed him and took a moment to listen intently. 

“Let’s me hear the baby’s heartbeat.” She finally explained before setting it aside using the tape measure along the length of Beatrice’s stomach. 

“Everything seems quite healthy. Little creature kicked me when I was feeling it. Mrs. Edwards said you thought you had about a month to go?” She asked as she looked at the tape measure. 

“If I’ve got my math right.” Beatrice said, waiting a beat to see if the midwife was done before pulling her chemise down over her stomach. It hardly covered the bottom anymore. 

“Well, if I was a betting midwife, I’d say more like three weeks. But they do tend to come on their own schedule. How are you feeling? Any headaches? Do your shoes still fit?” She asked as she packed the two instruments away.

“Aside from the trip out here, I’ve been feeling quite alright.” The midwife nodded before turning around and stepped back by the bed. Taking up Beatrice’s wrist she kept fingers against her pulse as she checked the time on a pocket watch she kept on a gold chain. 

“All good to hear. I think you should probably give up on the corset for now. It could be helpful after birth but it’s not doing anything good at the moment.” She dropped Beatrice’s wrist and tucked the watch back into her pocket. “Don’t do anything too strenuous,” Her eyes jumped to Arthur with an accusatory glare. “But if you’re feeling fine I think things will work. Take it easy and make sure you’re eating enough. I know a few women just can’t seem to get hungry so close to birth but you gotta keep your strength up.” Returning to her bag, she snatched up the handle. “That’s really all I need for now. I’d like to visit you next week as well. Same time alright?” 

“Yes, that would be fine.” Beatrice sat up and swung her feet onto the floor. Elizabeth nodded.

“If you need me for something the boy at the desk knows me and you can send for me easily enough. Otherwise, I shall see you next week. Mrs. Edwards has already paid so I don’t want to hear you mentioning compensation.” With a few more pleasantries, the midwife left. She showed herself out, leaving Arthur to glance at Beatrice nervously. 

“That was interesting.” He finally said. “Did it feel odd, her poking you like that?” Beatrice shook her head. 

“Feels odd all the time, getting kicked. Her poking from the outside isn’t much different.” Arthur grinned and stood over her as she sat on the bed. “Wouldn’t mind a different kind of attention.”

“She did say nothing too strenuous.” He joked. 

“Arthur, you can’t be serious.” Her hands reached up to grab his shirt and jerk him down on the bed above her. 

“Hey, I don’t want that lady mad at me.” He weakly struggled against her grasp. “Pretty sure she’d kill me and make it look like an accident.” Even as he spoke, his hands began to slip up her legs, between the fabric of her drawers to find her core. Beatrice stopped tugging on him, letting out a low hiss of pleasure as he graze across her sensitive nub. 

“Pretty sure I’ll kill you if you leave me wanting.” She moaned into his neck. “Who do you fear more?” 

“Oh, definitely you.” He laughed, keeping his touch light on her. With his free hand he rucked her chemise up above her breast and dipped his head to mouth at one erect nipple. Rolling it gently between his teeth made her moan loudly. Arthur popped his head up and grinned at her.

“She’ll hear you!” He joked and Beatrice lightly slapped his arm.

“Don’t tease me.” She complained but was smiling as he sat up and began undoing his shirt.

“I would never.” He teased. The sight of his bare chest was enough to make her reach out and run fingers down his firm stomach. Her fingers trailed down over his belt buckle and tugged at it as if she could make it release with sheer want.

“I’ll get you back.” She warned as he relented under her pressure and begin undoing his belt and letting it fall to the floor beside the bed. 

“I’m sure you will.” As he spoke, his hands closed around her ankles and turned her in bed so he was between her legs. “And I’m sure I will deserve it.” Her drawers slipped down easily and she had to struggle to see over her belly. What on earth was he doing crouched so far down? When he first lapped at her wet folds her head fell back and she understood. 

Heavy moans and gasps were all she could manage as he laved his tongue over her. Her hands scrambled for something to grasp and finally managed to tangle in his hair and press his face closer. Thick arms wrapped around her thighs, keeping her from bucking too much as she drew closer to her climax. As She was pushed over her edge, her thighs clamped around his head and held him there until she came back to herself. 

Once released, Arthur climbed up her body, pressing his face against her neck and leaving wet kisses up to her jaw. His hands caressed her skin, thumb rolling over her breast before sliding against her stomach. Beatrice rolled her head onto his shoulder, enjoying the feel of him against her. 

“Arthur, please.” She begged, her hands working down his body. 

“Alright, but nothing strenuous.” His voice was a whisper in her ear, still teasing. Shedding his jeans, he held her hips and turned her on her side. Pressing close to her back, he slipped a hand under her thigh and raised it up. 

With careful maneuvering he slipped into her waiting hole from behind, still holding her leg and began pumping. The new angle was almost too much and Beatrice could only lean her face into the pillow and cry out. Arthur’s free hand held her against his chest as he sucked bruises onto her neck. He groaned loudly, unable to control himself as he thrust.

“You are so good,” He said into her ear. “You feel so good.” With another grunt, he adjusted her leg and found a way to sink deeper in. Beatrice gasped for air, her hands clinging to his forearm as he held her against him. As his climax neared his breath grew hoarse. Thrusting up into her and holding there, he pressed a hard kiss against her temple as he released himself inside her. 

“Arthur...” Her voice was a satisfied whimper as he gently lowered her leg down and wrapped both arms around her. His breath was hot and came in heavy puffs against her skin. She wanted to tell him how she felt, like she’d drown if he left her. But it was too soon. He’d turn tail and run if she admitted she needed him there in the morning to keep breathing. For now, his arms holding her down was enough. His body pressed against her so tightly was enough. 

“You want me to order room service?” He asked into her shoulder. 

“Oh, Arthur. You know just what to say to a lady.” Her laugh was tired and she shivered as he slipped out of her. Pulling the sheets up over her, Arthur kissed at her neck again before getting up to pull on clothes.

The next morning a knock on the door woke them. Beatrice raised her head and called out. The girl answered back that she had a message for her. It was slipped under the door and Beatrice untangled herself from Arthur to pick it up. 

In flowery script befitting a woman such as Clara, Beatrice’s name was written across the front. Inside the fold, a request for tea that afternoon was all that was written. A sinking feeling sat in her gut but she shook it off and began getting dressed. What Clara considered tea time was only a few hours away. It seemed with Arthur in bed with her, Beatrice had a tendency to sleep in. Arthur slowly woke, smiling at her as he watched her dress. 

“What would you like to do today?” He asked lazily. 

“Clara wants me to have tea with her today.” The worry leaked into her voice and Arthur’s face crunched in concern. “She doesn’t want you to come.” 

“Well, she didn’t seem too interested in me anyways.” Arthur sat up and ruffled his hair before taking a stretch. “I wouldn’t worry about it.”

“Don’t suppose there’s much I can do about it anyways.” She said. 

“You did what you thought was right, that’s all a person can do.” Arthur said. “You want me to walk you there?” 

“No, I’ll be fine.” She was sure of it. When she was standing in front of the house, she was less sure. The idea of seeing Rupert once again with Arthur to properly telegraph her anger towards him wasn’t a pleasant thought. She knocked on the door anyways. The old maid answered with a smile and brought her into the sitting room.

“I’ll go get the tea. Missus Clara will join you in a moment.” The maid left and Beatrice was left to consider her situation. It wasn’t great. 

“Beatrice.” Clara’s voice drew her attention to the doorway. “I’m so glad you could join me for tea today.” She sat down so gracefully across from Beatrice and the maid brought in a cart with tea and food. They sat in silence as she served them and Beatrice tried to busy her hands by sipping at the tea. 

“I got your note.” Clara said once the maid had left. Beatrice couldn’t look up and she felt her heart seize. “My husband denied it, but I know his handwriting and I know he was on a business trip near where you came from.” Her voice was even, too calm for as mad as she should be. Beatrice looked up to find Clara looking into her tea cup with disappointment. 

“He didn’t tell me he was married.” Beatrice said quietly, fighting with herself to have the strength to tell her. “He said he loved me and promised to marry me.” It sounded so stupid when she said it, how could she have been so stupid? Clara’s hand tightened on the tea cup and looked up at her.

“And when you informed him you were with child?” She asked, still far too calm. 

“He vanished, and then I received his letter.” The tea was growing cold in Beatrice’s hand. “I have no support, no family to help me. I cannot raise a child and I cannot keep a job while pregnant and unmarried. I was fired from my job for immorality.” She dared to flit her eyes up to find Clara watching her. 

“What about your escort? Arthur, was it? He seemed quite protective of you.”

“Arthur has been a great help, but I have only known him the long side of a week. Ma’am, if you’ve changed your mind about the baby I can understand.” She didn’t want to understand but she did. At those words Clara clattered her tea cup and saucer onto the small table. 

“I want the child still.” Her words were adamant, forceful.

“What?” Beatrice startled at the revelation, tea spilling on her hand. Clara reached over to hand her a napkin to clean herself.

“My husband isn’t a good man, is he?” She said, giving a small huff and leaned back against the high backed couch. 

“No, ma’am.” 

“I am sorry for what he’s done to you. I can only imagine the difficult position he’s put you in. But I do still want the child.” 

“Mr. Edwards...” Beatrice still wasn’t sure she wanted the child in _his_ care. 

“My husband will not be returning to this house.” The words were finite. “I come from old money, Mr. Edwards actually has very little to his name. I imagine he will be quite destitute before long. We both know he’s not particularly responsible.” A small, sardonic laugh escaped her and Beatrice was at a loss for words. It was as if every wish she had was being answered. She didn’t know what she had done to finally deserve her good fortune. 

“I, I want you to have the child.” Her voice squeaked as she finally managed to force the words out. Clara smiled, a big, real smile and picked up a place of small cakes from the cart. 

“Oh, I am so relieved. I was so terrified you wouldn’t want me to have the child if there was no father.” Clara held out the plate and Beatrice almost laughed herself. 

“I thought you wouldn’t want the baby if you knew who the father was.” She admitted as she took one of the cakes. It was too sweet and she loved it. 

“Then I suppose we are both silly women. I thank you for being honest with me.” Clara sipped at her tea, her posture much more relaxed into her seat. Beatrice felt weight lift off her shoulders and she started to dissolve into tears. “Oh my!” Clara stood up, quickly pulling Beatrice into her arms. 

“I’m sorry, I was so worried and I can’t thank you enough.” She said into the fine clothing.

“No, no. I‘m thanking you!” Clara insisted. “You’re giving me what I’ve always wanted. You’ve been through so much, please.” She pulled back to wipe at Beatrice’s tears with the cuff of her blouse. 

“Will you be safe from Mr. Edwards?” Beatrice asked. “Won’t he be able to take all your money?” Clara laughed at the question.

“He can certainly try, but he won’t like what happens. You’ve got your handsome friend, I’ve got mine.” She said with a mysterious smile. “Now, please. Let’s sit down and enjoy our tea. How was the midwife? She came highly recommended.”

Beatrice didn’t leave Clara’s house for another hour, feeling much better. The tea and cakes certainly helped things. The day seemed so much brighter when she stepped down the stairs of the house. Arthur was there, waiting. He was sitting against the fence with his hat pulled down as if asleep, but jumped to his feet as Beatrice walked over.

“How’d it go?” He asked, dusting his pants off as he stood. 

“Wonderful,” She said with a smile. “She’s kicked him out of the house.”

“Really?” He laughed. “That’s more spine than I gave her credit for. She still want the baby?” Beatrice nodded her head. 

“Said she had names picked out already. Arthur, I think a child could have a really good life here.” He took her hand and held it in the crook of his arm as they started walking. 

“I think so too.” He agreed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys, you gotta stop being so positive. You’re only encouraging me to write more.


	12. Chapter 12

The next week was pleasant. Beatrice felt as if she were some blessed heroine from a romance novel. Arthur did take her on a picnic out on the prairie. Under a tree beside an old broken stone wall they laid on a blanket and ate small sandwiches. When they had grown quite bold, he shucked his pants down a bit and they fucked under that tree. No one saw but a couple of jackrabbits that ran by and their horses, tethered to a picket line and left to graze not far off. 

Once her skirts had been smoothed back down and his belt rebuckled, they sat together. Her back to his chest as they stared out at the open prairie. 

“You really want to go to Saint Denis after you get the money?” Arthur asked, his arm draped over her shoulder and chest. Beatrice held his hand, their fingers intertwined as she thought. 

“I don’t know. It seems like a good place to start over, to get lost in. You ever been?” She asked, craning her neck a bit to look at him. He shook his head.

“No, I’m not much for civilization myself.” It was inevitable that her thoughts would turn to after. Was Saint Denis the right choice?”

“Where would you go?” She asked, still trying to appraise his reaction. 

“Oh, out west somewhere probably. But that could be a hard life.” He said, giving her a squeeze. Beatrice scoffed. 

“When ain’t my life been hard?” Arthur dipped his head to kiss her hair. She sighed, still unsure. “Suddenly I’ll have options and I’m not used to that, Arthur. I’m used to doing what I have to do to get by.” 

“You’re a smart girl, you’ll figure it out.” He sounded so sure of it, she wished she could be that sure. “And I’ll be there to help you, if you need it.” 

“I need it.” She said quickly, gripping his arm tight in her hands. Arthur chuckled and kissed her hair again.

“Don’t worry, I’m not going anywhere.” 

They only parted ways once they were back in Blackwater. Arthur wanted to run by the general store for a few things but Beatrice wanted to go lay down. She was getting tired so easily these days and a nap always made her feel better. He kissed her cheek before they parted and she couldn’t help the blush it brought to her face. He was gone before she started walking to the hotel. His backside was one of her favorite parts of him, alongside the rest of him. She made a point to watch him leave.

As Beatrice walked past the saloon she saw a figure inside start and stand up suddenly. Behind her, she could hear the door of the saloon slam open and stumbling footsteps chase after her. A sinking feeling in her gut made her pick up her step but a hand closed on her shoulder and slammed her into the brick wall of the store front.

“You bitch!” Edwards screamed in her face. His hand closed around her throat, holding her in place as she squirmed in his grasp. “You cost me EVERYTHING!” Spit flew in her face from his yelling and he stank of liquor. People were stopping to stare at his outburst and he seemed to realize he was out in the open in broad daylight. 

His hand closed on her arm, fingers digging in so tight Beatrice thought he would go through to the bone. Her hands flew at his face, trying to scratch him, push him off her. Anything to get away. Instead, he dragged her after him down a nearby alley. 

“Let me go!” She shrieked, already out of breath and aching but still fighting him. Her boots dug in, and she even kicked at him but he was too drunk and angry to notice. 

Once behind the buildings in the deserted alley, Edwards threw her to the ground. She slammed into the corner of a crate, her back aching as she struggled to push herself up. A boot slammed into the side of her head and she was dazed for a moment, unable to see straight and unsure which way was up. Another boot hit her hard and she blacked out. 

When she opened her eyes again, Edwards was gone. Done with her. She could taste blood in her mouth and spit. A red sticky glob hit the dirt beneath her. Her entire body ached, her jaw was agony and one eye was swollen shut. When she went to push herself to stand her arm twisted wrong underneath her and she collapsed with a cry of pain. A bright red ring circled her forearm and her hand was hard to control. Everything was wrong. 

“Help,” Her voice was hoarse, hardly louder than a whisper and it hurt to breathe. Swallowing and taking a breath, she tried again. This time a back door to a shop opened and a man wearing an apron stepped out, looking for the source of the sound.

“Jesus lady!” He shouted when he saw her and hurried to help her up. She was wobbly on her feet and clutched her injured arm against her chest. “What happened?”

“I was attacked.” She managed to gasp. Every breath was painful and she leaned on the man heavily. 

“Have you got someone who can help you?” He asked. 

“Clara Edwards.” It was the only name she could think of. The only person who could help her, except for Arthur. But no one would know how to reach him. A sudden pain clenched in her stomach and she grabbed it with her good arm, a cry of pain wrenched from her. The shopkeeper grabbed her as she felt herself fainting.

Waking again, still in pain, she was in a bed at least. Clara was sitting beside her, watching her closely with concern. When Beatrice moved, another pain tore through her and she curled up. Clara held her shoulder to steady her and the door of the room opened for the midwife to storm in. 

“Beatrice, can you hear me?” Clara asked. Beatrice nodded, unable to talk until the pain lessened. 

“Rupert, he attacked me.” She managed to gasp. Clara’s eyes darkened and she looked to the midwife. The sound of heavy steps walked away from the doorway. 

“You’ve gone into labor, hun.” The midwife said, “we weren’t sure you were going to wake up for it.” 

“Where’s Arthur?” Beatrice asked, panicking. Clara shushed her, wiping her face with a damp cloth. Her eyes darted to the midwife for a moment. “What?”

“Nothing, he’ll be here soon. I’m sure. But you’re safe, we’re here with you.” The midwife pulled the sheets from Beatrice and gingerly moved to her hips. 

“Can you roll onto your back?” She asked. Beatrice nodded and tried to push herself only to find her arm tightly bound and plastered. “You’ve got a broken arm, be careful with it. I imagine a few broken ribs too,” The midwife sounded furious but kept her touch gentle as she helped Beatrice roll over. Another pain hit her and she clenched down on Clara’s hand as she forgot how to breathe. 

“Imagine it won’t be much longer now,” The midwife said, bending over to check between Beatrice’s legs. Once the pain ended, the midwife placed a hand on her knee. “I’m going to check you now and see how far along you are.” Beatrice winced as the woman reached into her and Clara crooned in support. Another contraction hit her and Beatrice could feel herself slipping away as Clara called her name.

“You got a visitor.” The deputy said. Arthur glanced up to see Clara walk in. He was on his feet in a second, holding on to the bars as she stood near. 

“Is he still alive?” Clara asked, calm. Arthur shrugged and looked away. 

“I don’t know. I can’t say I care much either.” He grumbled. “He wasn’t breathing very easily when they pulled me off him.” 

“She had the baby.” Clara finally said after a long minute. Arthur’s eyes snapped to her face, his brows twisted in worry. “They’re both alright, but she was hurt badly.”

“I know, I saw her.” His jaw set as he tried to contain his anger. 

“She’s been asking for you, when she’s awake.” The words made the muscles in Arthur’s jaw twitch in response. “Suppose it would be cruel to leave you in here.” She tilted her head, appraising Arthur. “If only you had killed him.” With a smirk, she turned to the deputy. “Let him out.” She commanded. The deputy jumped to move and unlocked to door of the cell. Arthur, confused, stepped out carefully and walked after Clara as she left the jail. 

“Ma’am?” He asked. Outside of the jail was a hansom drawn by a dark bay. Clara climbed in and picked up the reins. 

“Come on, cowboy. I told you, she’s been asking for you.” Her words were light but there was an urgency underneath them. He jumped in beside her and she snapped the reins, driving the horse out of town. 

“Seems beating a man near to death is a reasonable thing to jail a person for, but if that man who got beat had just about killed a pregnant lady they’re a lot more lenient. My foul husband has managed to drag himself off into some bushes to lick his wounds. I can assure you if he is found, he won’t be leaving the jail as easy as you.” Clara was angry, but her control was impeccable.

“How bad is she? I uh, I didn’t get a good look at her.” Arthur’s hands were shaking and he clenched them on his thighs to stop them. 

“Broken arm, broken ribs, bad black eye. Hard to know what else but she winces about every time she moves. Got a real bad bruise on her jaw, maybe some loose teeth.” The house was in sight now and the horse trotted along swiftly. 

The horse was left tied in front as the two walked into the house. Clara led Arthur up the stairs and into a bedroom. A large bed was beside French doors that let sunlight stream in. A white wicker bassinet was to one side. In the bed a small figure lay with their back to the door. Clara glanced at Arthur before moving to pick up the baby from the bassinet. It appeared to be sleeping soundly, swaddled in soft blue blankets. Arthur was silent as Clara carried the child out and left him with Beatrice. 

She wasn’t moving, he still wasn’t even sure she was awake. Setting his hat aside, he quietly undid his belt and sat it on the vanity beside the door. Bending over, he pulled his boots off and left them on the floor before climbing into the bed behind her. She only stirred a bit as he pressed against her back and wrapped his arms around her carefully. 

“Arthur.” Her voice was unsteady but her good hand moved up to hold onto his forearm. Arthur pressed a kiss to her temple and stayed close against her. 

“Hey, Trixie.” Her shoulders started shaking and Arthur craned his neck to see tears running down her face. Murmuring reassurance, he wiped at her face and held her as tight as he dared for as long as she needed.


	13. Chapter 13

Clara had insisted Beatrice convalesce at her house. The midwife had visited everyday to check on the infant and Beatrice. She had healed slowly while the infant seemed to thrive under Clara’s care. It had been brought up that Beatrice could at least wet nurse the infant but she had refused, instead choosing to let her milk dry up. She had refused to see the baby at all, despite being able to hear it cry. 

The bruises on her faces had faded, and she could see out of her eye again. It had been two months since she’d given birth. Things were starting to heal enough for her to feel able to care for herself again. Sitting out on the balcony of her room, letting the fresh air blow across her face, she could hear the heavy boots of Arthur walk into the room behind her. 

“Trixie?” He asked cautiously. After catching her crying a couple of times he was always careful about approaching and interrupting her. The tears were coming less often and she figured it just took a while for that particular annoyance to go away. 

“Hey, Arthur.” She actually kind of liked it when he called her Trixie now. The sigh of relief he let out was audible. “I was thinking.” She spoke as he stepped out onto the balcony beside her chair. “I think I’m ready to go.” 

“You sure?” He asked, sounding very unsure. “Your arm ain’t even fully healed yet.” 

“It’s mostly healed.” She argued with him over it. “I could travel with it.” Arthur shook his head and leaned on the railing of the balcony, looking out across the dry grass. 

“We could take a train to Saint Denis.” He suggested. “It’d be a lot easier on you.” 

“Been thinking about that too.” Her tone made it obvious she wasn’t thinking of Saint Denis. Arthur looked over his shoulder to her in question. Beatrice wasn’t sure she wanted to go to a big city anymore. She wasn’t sure she even wanted to be in a small city. “I was thinking, maybe going out West.” Less people sounded better to her. Arthur turned to lean back against the railing and crossed his arms. Beatrice got the distinct impression he wasn’t convinced.

“What happened to Saint Denis?” He asked, reaching into his vest pocket to pull out a cigarette and set it on his lips as he searched for a match. Beatrice shifted in her seat, careful with how she sat. 

“I don’t know if I want to be around all those people.” She admitted, not looking at him as she said it. Arthur nodded as he lit his cigarette. Taking a deep drag off of it, he pulled it from his lips and blew smoke up into the air. 

“I can understand that. But if that’s the case, I’d really prefer if you were a bit more healed up than you are. It’d give us time to make a plan.” He smirked at his own words. “Going out West takes a bit more thought than Saint Denis.” Beatrice nodded as he spoke, he made sense even if she didn’t want to linger in Clara’s house. 

“Can’t argue with that, I suppose.” Arthur shrugged and offered her the cigarette. She took it and took a long drag. 

“Is it the baby?” He asked when he took it back. They were both aware the sound of the crying infant on the other side of the house was enough to make her burst into tears regardless of what she was doing. Beatrice shrugged.

“Partially, I guess.” It certainly wasn’t helping. 

“Alright.” He stuck the cigarette between his lips again. “We’ll split the difference. See how you are riding a horse and then make a decision. Like I said, still need some time to plan it out. I’d suggest buying a place that’s already got a house built. How much money were they gonna pay you, again?”

“Five thousand dollars.” She said. Arthur nearly choked on the cigarette. 

“Jesus, think you’ll be pretty well set.” He coughed, pulling the cigarette away while he tried to regain his composure. 

“Going rate for mistress hush money, I guess. Almost feels bad taking it from Clara.” 

“Don’t you dare.” He pointed at her like a parent yelling at their kid. “That woman can afford it and you’ve been through hell.” Beatrice had to admit he had a point. She reached out expectantly and after a second Arthur handed her the cigarette. Taking her time to enjoy it, she blew smoke out into the sky. 

“How long will you make me wait?” She asked without looking back at him. Arthur sighed and shifted. 

“I want you to find a destination. I ain’t just riding out aimless into the desert with you. You find a property to buy, and prove to me you can ride a horse and _then_ we can leave.” She wanted to yell at him, tell him that he didn’t have a say in her life plans but she knew he was right. She cocked her head to the side and watched him from the corner of her eye. Maybe he did have a little say in her life plans. The longer she was around him the more she wanted him in her life. Permanently. 

“Fair enough.” She said after a long silence, handing the cigarette back. 

Late at night, Beatrice sat up on the edge of bed looking over newspaper ads by lamplight. Arthur was snoring lightly beside her. They hadn’t been intimate since the baby had been born, at the threat of death from the midwife. And Beatrice’s injuries had made her mostly uninterested in anything as well but she was slowly feeling better and her desire for Arthur was quick to return. 

Her eyes read through the same ad twice, feeling her heart start thumping in excitement. One last time and she couldn’t help elbowing Arthur awake. He snorted, sitting up suddenly and ready to fight until the sleep cleaned from his eyes and focused on Beatrice. 

“What?” He asked, panicked. Eagerly, she showed him the paper. It took a moment but he did lean close as she angled it in the light. 

“A small ranch, 10 acres out in Coronado. House already built, creek on property and good game.” She pointed at the notice. 

“Does sound nice. What’s the price?” He reached around her arm to tilt the paper so he could see it easily. 

“2,500$” She was so excited, already she could see it in her mind. 

“Coronado’s a hell of a trip. We’d have to get over the Grizzlies.” His tone was guarded, but not enough to tamper her excitement. “You ever been to Coronado?” 

“No.” She didn’t care, she knew in her bones that place was hers. Arthur rolled back onto his back and rubbed his face. 

“Alright, it's your money. Write to them then.” He said, defeated. Beatrice set the paper down and curled into his side, kissing at his neck. “Hey,” Arthur grinned down at her. “Don’t get too excited, could be a few weeks before they respond.”

“They said to send a telegraph. More like a few days.” Beatrice corrected him, feeling smug as he laughed a little. 

“Well ain’t that fancy as hell.” He squeezed her tightly. 

“I’ll go down to town tomorrow and send it.” She couldn’t stop herself from wiggling in excitement. 

Arthur walked her into town the next day, nearly at sunrise. Beatrice clung excitedly to his arm the entire way, the newspaper ad folded in her pocket. She paid her change to the telegraph man and he gave a nod as he turned away to send the message. Before she left, she gave Clara’s address to send any response. 

“Man, Trixie. I ain’t seen you this excited over something.” He reached out to run a hand through her hair as she smiled up at him.

“I don’t think I’ve ever wanted something before.” 

“I know the feeling.” He watched her as she nearly bounded along the road. 

“Can we try out riding?” She asked him as they walked. 

“Yeah, later. Clara wanted to talk to you. I’ll go get the horses, you head on to the house.” Her excitement was tampered down a bit by realizing she would have to explain her plans to Clara. She would be sad to leave her. 

Back at the house, Beatrice found Clara rocking the infant in her arms. In the sitting room she was walking back and forth and the small baby was curling into her shoulder. Beatrice took a long moment to watch them together. She looked like a mother. Her hair wasn’t as perfectly styled as it used to be but she still seemed so graceful on her feet. When she finally looked up, she motioned to a plush couch before attending to the infant. As Beatrice sat down, Clara gently lowered the baby into a bassinet. 

“How are you feeling?” Clara asked quietly. 

“Certainly doing better.” She said.

“Arthur said you were thinking of leaving soon.” Clara sounded sad to hear it. Beatrice had to admit the woman had become a good friend, it seemed she shared her kinship with her.

“I don’t want to linger, you’ve got your family. I found a possible property to buy.” Her eyes lingered over the bassinet. 

“Well, I want to wish you well. Nothing I can say can express how thankful I am.” She moved to sit on the couch beside Beatrice and took up her hands. “You have given me so much. Please, write me when you get where you’re going.” It was all Beatrice could manage to nod. Clara grabbed an envelope from the coffee table and handed it to her.

“Arthur also said you might not take this.” She forced it into Beatrice’s hand, curling her fingers around it. “You will take this, Beatrice. You will take it, and buy yourself a beautiful life.” Her eyes pierced into Beatrice and she couldn’t think of anything to say to disagree. When she finally let go, Beatrice opened the envelope to look. She had never seen so much money in her life and she wondered what it looked like.

“This is twice what Mr. Edwards agreed to.” Beatrice thumbed through the bills in the envelope. An awe came over her at the small fortune she held in her hands. How could so much money fit into the fat little envelope?

“Consider it extra pay for the anguish he put you through.” The infant was starting to fuss a bit and Clara moved to pick her up and rock her. 

“Is she a good baby?” Beatrice asked, her hands clenched around the envelope. Clara smiled, resting her cheek against the baby’s head as it calmed in her arms. 

“She’s wonderful. Would you like to hold her?” She moved as if to hand the baby to Beatrice. Quickly, Beatrice shook her head and held up her hands in self defense.

“I’d prefer not to.” Clara seemed deflated and stepped back. “What name did you decide on?” She tried to change the subject, afraid she had hurt Clara’s feelings. 

“Mae. After my mother.” She stroked the infant’s peach fuzz hair.

“That’s a good name.” It was, seemed right for the small girl. 

“When are you and Arthur planning on leaving?” She rocked back and forth as she stood there.

“As soon as I can manage to sit on a horse.” Beatrice wanted to laugh, she felt confident in her ability to ride despite Arthur’s skepticism. “He’s actually gone to get my horse from the stables in town. We were going to try me out this evening.” 

“I take it he doesn't think you’ll manage” Clara sounded like she was on her side. It was nice to have a female friend.

“He’s just worried, but I’m ready to move on.” 

“I’m sure you’ll manage magnificently.” Clara beamed at her. “Go have some food. I’m sure Sally has something ready. Gotta to get your strength up for your ride.”

The roan was happy to see her, wickering excitedly as she neared. Beatrice smiled as she stroked the velvety nose and looked over at Arthur.

“You’re going to have to give her a name.” Arthur said. It was true, the poor creature was practically her pet now. When she moved around to the side, Arthur stood beside her and offered a hand to help her up. “No need to make this harder than it already is.” He said when she looked at him in question. “I ain’t going to say no if you need a little help mounting.”

With his help she nearly flew into the saddle. Guarded, she lowered herself down on the saddle and took a moment to adjust herself back and forth. Surprisingly, she felt fine. Gathering up the reins, she pulled the roan in a small circle before walking up the road and back. Feeling sure of herself, she nudged the horse into a trot. It was less enjoyable but she managed. 

“You’re looking pretty sure of yourself up there.” Arthur called, tilting his hat back to watch her.

“I can do this, Arthur.” Pulling the roan to a stop in front of him, she beamed down at him. “I can do this.”


	14. Epilogue

A response took two days to reach Beatrice. The property was still for sale and the owner was most eager to sell it. Clara was just as eager to help her buy it, using her connection at the bank to help speed along the transaction. It took another month to get everything settled, but she could pick up the deed from the bank in Coronado when they arrived. 

Finally the day came when it was time to ride. Arthur had pointed out if they waited any longer they would never get over the Grizzlies before the winter storms hit. Little Mae was just starting to smile when they left, mostly at Clara. 

They were packed, and ready. Arthur’s horse and hers were getting agitated, being tied for so long. Beatrice just couldn’t stop saying goodbye to Clara. They hugged and said their peace and then started all over again until Arthur coughed and looked pointedly to the horses. 

“Alright,” She said, smiling at Clara just once more. 

“Write!” Clara commanded, nodding to Arthur. He tipped his hat at her and placed a hand on Beatrice’s back to push her towards the horses. She mounted up without help, having spent the past month practicing, and took the reins from Arthur as he handed them to her. 

Beatrice sat on the roan, stopping at the crest of the hill and looking back at Blackwater. Clara stood at the gate, holding little Mae in her arms and watching them go. She waved, her hand up high and Beatrice returned it. 

“We need to get going if we’re going to make a decent time.” Arthur reminded her gently. 

“Alright, let’s go.” She nudged the roan on and they started out on the road.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, so I finished this story! I wasn’t expecting such a positive response from everybody and I’m a little overwhelmed with all your wonderful comments. I was just really dealing with some stuff in story form and wanting to finish writing it before my deadline. Thanks for reading along with me!


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